


Traveling the Middle Ground

by ALCzysz17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Emotional Baggage, Evenutal Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, MagicTargCest Baby, Mix of show and book Sansa, Not completely confident Sansa, Raising a baby, Sansa finding it in her to forgive herself, Sansa finding strength in herself, Sansa realizes that she is brave and always had been, Sansa-centric, Stark Family, The End, Unrequited Love, jonsa, or so she thinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 55,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALCzysz17/pseuds/ALCzysz17
Summary: “Nothing can ever stay the same, we can only hope it will change for the better,” Arya remarked wisely, flipping onto her own back to stare up at the ceiling“Things don’t stay bad forever, but they don’t stay good forever either,” Sansa responded back, turning her head to catch Arya’s eyes.“It’s all about balance.” Sansa nodded her agreement closing her eyes.Balance; such a precarious thing that was so hard to achieve in life, it was a constant act of trying to walk the thin line between two extremes. Sansa knew she wasn’t very good at it, more times than not she had leaned far too close to one extreme rather than traveling the middle ground between. Was there any way to truly walk that middle ground completely balanced? Was it an act that you had to achieve on your own, or was it something that was only achievable with the right person?Sansa figured she would learn that lesson when the time came.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Got some lackluster tags up there, sorry about that, my mind is not working with me right now. Okay so the 411 is this was my second story I started writing for 'Game of Thrones' that just got ridiculously long. So long that I have to place it up as a three part story, cause I think putting a 30,000 word story as a oneshot is a lot of reading without a good place to pause if you're reading it on the webpage and not downloading it. 
> 
> This story came to me after reading another lovely story all about a baby produced by Jon and Dany - I long to be near you by it_was_so_human. One of my favorite stories and it inspired me to write something similar. As such when it comes to me and my writing, nothing is ever truly that simple. 
> 
> Suddenly this story that was about Sansa finally getting her happy ending turned into Sansa emotionally learning who she is and forgiving herself for past mistakes and hopefully finding love. Like serious, went down into the emotional road with this girl. And so I introduce to you part 1 and hopefully part 2 will be out after revising and part 3 when I am done composing it!
> 
> Enjoy!! ^_~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/16/18: There is an added section in this chapter about Sansa finding out and trying to breastfeed Robb to be closer to him. I thought it would be a great addition to Sansa’s wants to be needed and tender bonding that a mother can have with their baby. 
> 
> For more information, here is the website I used for reference: https://breastfeedingusa.org/content/article/breastfeeding-your-adopted-baby-0

 

 

“He won’t bite.”

Sansa jumped, whipping her head around from where she was leaning against the doorframe, gripping the banister tightly to see Bran sitting behind her with an eyebrow arched as he observed her quietly. Her jaw clenched tensely as she regarded him, wondering how he could have snuck up on her in a wheelchair.

Was she that out of it?

“I know that,” she grumbled in annoyance, turning back to stare at the crib in the middle of the small room. The sun was overcast outside the two windows within the room, darkening the room and causing the light wooden crib to stand out even more. After a moment of contemplating she looked back at her brother. “Did you know?” she asked, apprehension coloring her words.

Bran stared at her blankly, blinking once before responding, “Yes. I see everything.” He glanced away from her to gaze into the room, emotionless as he seemed to always be. Sansa felt a sore sting in her mouth at his words, of course he knew.

“And you didn’t feel inclined to warn me?” Sansa inquired a minute later to draw her little brother’s eyes back to her. Barely contained anger and hurt bubbled beneath the surface as she turned her back to the room to fix a glare on Bran.

He was unaffected though as was the norm. “Some things have to happen in a certain way, I can’t always tell you.”

She understood, she didn’t want too, but she did. “It must be quite a precarious position.” Bran only nodded, giving no indication of acknowledging her sarcasm or not.

It was then the baby hidden within the crib started to cry. Sansa flinched at the loud wailing, eyes shutting tightly to ward against the noise. She hoped he would stop on his own but a minute went by and he was still crying. When she opened her eyes, Bran was gone as though he hadn’t been there at all.

Wonderful, she thought, turning back around to see the little bundle wiggling in the crib as he continued to cry. She didn’t want to hold him; she didn’t want anything to do with him if she were to be honest. The hurt was still too fresh in her heart, still radiating inside painfully. Sansa stood in the doorway unmoving ‘til someone finally appeared. A maid who bowed her head to Sansa before rushing in to take care of the baby.

Robb, he was named after her older brother who has been long dead. She still had a hard time thinking of the baby with that name, probably will continue to have a hard time no matter how long it’ll be. Quickly Sansa pulled away from the door, walking briskly down the hall to escape the cries that rattled her to the bone.

She spent the rest of her day in her solar, trying her best to not wallow in her pain.

 

\------------------------

 

Sansa did everything in her power to avoid being on the same floor as the babe for the last few weeks, even to the extent of going round about ways that took longer and gained strange looks when she was spotted. Some of the older maids and servants that had worked at Winterfell when she was but a babe herself only looked at her with phantom expressions; like they’ve seen this before.

When the realization came to her she felt instantly sick. It was that sick feeling that brought her to the floor Robb resided on. She walked slowly, barely making a sound on the stone flooring as she approached the door. Hearing a voice, Sansa peeked around the doorframe to look inside.

“Arya,” she breathed, her sister turned upon hearing her name and briefly smiled. It didn’t escape Sansa’s notice that baby Robb was in her sister’s arms.

“Sansa,” Arya greeted back, turning away to gaze down at the baby. “Do you remember when Rickon was born?”

Sansa stood stock-still in the doorway, drawing her eyes to gaze out the window furthest from the crib. “Yes,” she mumbled softly, avoiding Arya’s gaze.

“He was small too,” she commented lightly. Sansa could see in the corner of her eyes her sister brushing the dark hair on the babe’s head as she spoke.

Slowly, hesitantly she entered the room. She still kept a distance though, preferring to stand by the window she had been staring out of. Sansa felt unbearably uncomfortable.

“He also used to have a terrible cry,” Arya continued, walking closer to Sansa. Her shoulders tensed but she kept her eyes peering out the window. “Mother use to say he was the loudest out of all of us…and Jon the quietest.” Her tone caused Sansa to finally look her sister squarely in the face.

“What do you want from me, Arya?” Arya’s brows were knitted downward, her small lips twisted into a frown.

“I want you to be better than mother was,” Arya growled heatedly, coming forward to stand before Sansa with barely a foot between them.

Sansa turned away to the window once more, her arms crossed over her chest as an explosion of emotions filtered through her face and heart. The hurt was at the forefront of her mind bringing up the image of Jon bleeding, gasping harshly for air as his face revealed the extent of his exhaustion. And there in his dirty, bloody arms was a baby.

His baby.

Sansa clenched her eyes shut, trying in vain to push away her raw emotions so they could not show on the surface for all to see. When she opened her eyes though she knew Arya had seen them. Her sister’s face soften, the frown easing into something that resembled sadness; that resembled pity.

“I can’t do what you ask of me,” Sansa finally uttered, her voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t have a choice,” Arya stated softly though her eyes belied her anger at Sansa’s words.

“Right, I don’t have a choice, exactly like mother didn’t.”

Sansa took a step back from her sister, turning on her heel and walked out of the room as quickly as she could without running. Her eyes remained dry though they blurred as if she was crying without tears. She heard greetings towards her but didn’t respond, her feet carrying her to an unknown location in her distraught state. She didn’t feel the wind on her face, or the chill of the air prickling her exposed skin; she was numb.

It was because of that numbness Sansa didn’t realize where her feet took her ‘til she was standing in the godswood, the heart tree before her as tears flooded down her cheeks to leave cold trails behind. She gazed upon the face that gazed back at her then the strength in her legs gave out and she all but collapsed to her hands and knees while she gasped in pain. The cold snow froze her ungloved fingers to the bone but still she remained, crying softly as she released the pain she tried so desperately to bury away.

It’s not fair, she thought, it’s not fair how life had thrown her around like she was nothing but trash. It’s not fair that no matter how hard she tried it seemed to amount up to nothing. Life is not meant to be fair, life is life, Sansa thought bitterly, blinking her tired eyes as tears kept flowing down her face to drop from her chin and land on the snow. Her ice-cold fingers curled in the snow, feeling the slight burn in her skin. Sansa stared at the snow, her thoughts going towards the one person she didn’t want to think about.

Jon Snow, once her half-brother bastard and now her Targaryen Prince Cousin.

Sansa pulled back to sit on her soaked legs, drawing her sights on the weirwood. She felt like that stupid, little girl again, lost and torn with no way of finding herself. It didn’t seem to matter how old she got, she still reverted back to that lost state, the one constant in her life that she didn’t want.

Was it always going to be like this?

When things stopped making sense and her life, her world seemed to start spiraling out of control would she always fall back to this lost state of being? Will she not get stronger?

It seemed like everyone was facing their fears and coming out on the other side all the better for it and yet Sansa felt like she’d faced her fears endlessly and coming out on the other side for her meant nothing. No growth, no strength, and no sense of who she really was.

Did she ever really know who she was to begin with? Sansa feared the answer was no.

Slowly she brought her hands together, clasping them tightly with little warmth trying to seep into the cold numbness the snow left behind. She bowed her head to her hands and prayed to the old gods, to her father’s gods, to Jon’s gods. She prayed for the strength she felt she lacked, for the growth of character she felt she never achieved, and she prayed for the ability to finally see herself for who she really was; to finally look upon her reflection and know explicitly who that person looking back at her was. Even if her prays weren’t heard, even if there were truly no gods to hear them she still prayed.

Sansa didn’t know how long she stayed outside in the cold, feeling none of it on her skin as time went on. She only knew that it was nightfall by the time she stepped back inside to feel stinging warmth enveloping her icy skin. She barely remembered getting to her room where she dropped into a heavy sleep in her bed with her covers beneath her and her soaked dress still on.

Her sleep was so heavy that when she woke suddenly she was groggy and unfocused, her eyes glazed over by the heaviness of her sleeping state. Something in her forced her up though, something inside compelled Sansa to get up on shaky, unsteady legs and leave her room. She stumbled along the hall, still blinded by her sleep but making her way all the same. Her hand trailed along the wall as she moved, keeping her upright while helping to lead her to the destination that the voice inside her told her to go.

The hard stone scratched against the skin of her palm and fingers, the warmth flowing behind the stone kissing it better as she walked. It was like tunnel vision, she couldn’t make out anything else but the end of the tunnel in her mind, the end of her troubles…

A hush of silence rained over her as she turned the knob and pushed open a door, stepping over the threshold to enter the room. The door shut abruptly but she didn’t hear it, her eyes drawn to the center of the room. There was the crib. Sansa practically floated to the crib, in a blink of her eye she was standing over it, peering down to see the bundle laying there, soundly asleep. Her heart was pounding inside her chest as pain pumped through her veins at the sight of the sleeping babe.

“You ruined everything,” Sansa whispered towards the baby, gripping her hands around the edges of the crib. “You should never have been born, you should never have been brought here…” her eyes shut, relishing in the release of her words that she held tightly to her chest. “You will be nothing but a burden, a constant reminder,” Sansa stated sternly, opening her eyes to glare down at baby Robb who was suddenly awake and blinking up at her with those grey eyes that matched so well with Jon’s; just the barest of violet speckled within his irises.

Moon light filtered in through the windows illuminating well enough for her to see his face perfectly and possibly for him to see hers perfectly as well. She took in his small button nose, dark hair and eyebrows that resembled Jon’s, and the long face of a Northerner; what a lie.

“A constant reminder that he chose to lie with another woman, that he didn’t choose me.” Sansa felt a lump in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes. Robb wiggled around, trying to get out of his bundled state now that he was awake, but he followed her well enough, and so aware for a babe only three moons old.

“You don’t deserve to be named Robb, you don’t deserve to have a name at all,” her words cut through the silence of the night as her shoulders shook violently. “I had nothing you know, everything was taken from me…so…so many times that I grew use to it and then I found Jon…” tears spilled plentiful now as she remembered that fateful day at Castle Black.

She could still feel the warmth of his embrace, the shock and relief in his eyes as he took her in. Sansa clenched her eyes shut as she tried to push away the feelings, they weren’t helping her now. Her tears leaked out of the sides of her clenched eyes, trailing down her cheeks before she opened them to give the babe a harden stare.

“He never took, never even gave the idea a thought. He only gave, he only looked out for me and protected only me…I thought he cared more for me then should be right between brother and sister, but I didn’t care, not after everything else…” Sansa pulled back from the crib, releasing her grip to take a step back as the words kept coming. “He became King in the North, he never took it from me though, I didn’t care about the title just as long as we stayed together, as long as we were home together,” she breathed deeply into her lungs that felt like they could shrivel up inside her at the slightest exhale. “And then…”

Memories of Jon leaving for Dragonstone washed over her, stealing her breath away as she remembered him looking back at her from his horse. The sad look in his eyes as he regarded her, like he knew things would change once he left, maybe he did know. Maybe she knew as well, but that didn’t change the hurt that came to be when he returned with the Dragon Queen.

“She took him from me, just like everything else precious in my life,” Sansa stated harshly coming back to grip the edges of the crib once more, bringing Robb’s wandering eyes back to her as she leaned in. “I hoped, I prayed she’d die during the finally battle against the Night King and his army. I prayed it and it happened, what I didn’t expect to pray for was for you to not exist.” Her words grew darker as her vision blurred even more. “You ruined everything,” she restated, reaching down blindly to pick him up.

Arya was right, he was small. He barely weighted anything as she lifted him from his crib, raising him well above her. He wiggled around but did nothing else, didn’t cry, didn’t object to being held underneath his arms. His soft baby smell rafted off of him, surrounding her. Her heart pounded heavily inside her chest, thoughts crossed over her mind, lingering for but a moment then washing away for others. Her darkest thoughts shouted to rid herself of her pain, to do what she was sure her mother dreamed of many nights, but the smallest of thoughts countered her darker ones, forcing her to see that he was nothing but a babe, vulnerable and innocent.

“I hate…I hate…I…” Sansa choked on her words, slowly bringing Robb towards her to cradle him against her chest. He seemed to take instant comfort from her touch, sinking into her embrace like he was always meant to be there. “I…I could never hate you,” she admitted tearfully, pulling him up to settle the baby against her shoulder with one hand bracing him to her body by his back and the other slowly caressing the back of his head.

“I could never hate something that is a part of him,” she continued to confess in nothing but a whisper. She walked over to the rocking chair by one of the windows, settling down in it to rock baby Robb. She maneuvered him in her arms so his head lay in the crock of her arm as she slowly rocked him to sleep.

Sansa leaned down, whispering words of fear, sadness, and unrequited love, she whispered her dreams, her wishes, and she whispered a single vow as baby Robb started to close his eyes. “I promise I will never treat you wrong, that I will always look out for your best interests and that I will care for you unlike my own mother could care for your father.”

Arya found her that morning stiff in the rocking chair having fallen asleep herself with baby Robb still cradled in her arms. Her sister stared at her queerly, glancing between the dried tear stains and the still sleeping babe in her arms. Sansa offered a tired smile in greeting, drawing her eyes down to stare at the sleeping face before her. If she knew what Jon had looked like as a babe she thought his son resembled him well, there was hardly a hint of Daenerys in him. The look of the North was very strong, stronger than the look of the Targaryen’s apparently.

“How did you sleep?” Arya asked quietly, moving from her stalled point at the door to approach her. She shrugged her shoulders lightly, “Good actually.”

 

\-----------------------

 

“When will he be back?” Sansa asked as she read through the letters littering her desk. Baby Robb sat within her lap, locked into place by her arms. Bran was staring out the open window that allowed the cool air and heated warmth to mingle and disperse into the room. It was one of the good days that slowly alluded to spring coming.

“Soon,” Bran assured.

Sansa felt a dull ache inside her chest, her gaze dropping to the dark hair of Robb in her lap. His presence helped to soothe her pain, more so than cause it like in the beginning. Out of the three Stark siblings, she was the one who interacted with Robb the most. Ever since that fateful night she made sure to keep her vow to him, if not for Jon then for herself. Little Robb deserved to live his life to the fullest that they could provide, Jon had only gotten half of what his son was sure to get, Sansa would make sure of that. She would make sure his childhood did not mirror the one Jon lived. Though not altogether horrible there were moments she was sure he could have lived without experiencing.

Robb Targaryen would never have to experience those moments; never.

“Cersei left King’s Landing in ruin, it’ll take more than a few moons to fix the damage,” Bran declared mildly, turning back to them with his emotionless expression on his face. Sansa tried to keep the frown from appearing, she didn’t know what upset her more, how devoid of his original personality her little brother had become, or the fact that Jon wasn’t there for his only son.

“That’s what Jamie and Tyrion are there for, Jon needs to be here for his son,” Sansa stated edgily, reaching up a hand to brush through the soft dark brown hair on Robb’s head. She wondered curiously if he’d develop curls like his father. Secretly she hoped as such.

“The Iron Throne,” Bran started but Sansa quickly cut him off, “The Iron Throne is gone, destroyed and to never be sat upon again. Jon’s place is here, in the North.”

Bran looked exasperated with her; the look brought some joy to her to see he knew how to feel something other than nothing at all. He silently stared at her for a few long moments, it was slightly unnerving for her then he opened his mouth, “He’ll come back, Sansa and when he does he’ll need us…he’ll need you…”

Sansa tried to hide the tremor in her hands by wrapping them around Robb to turn the babe to face her, pressing her lips to his forehead gently. He won’t need her, she thought forlornly. “The only one who needs me is Robb,” she announced firmly, embracing him to her as she stood up from the desk.

 

\------------------------

 

Some nights she’d wake up in a cold sweat, haunting nightmares trying their damnest to keep their grasp on her even in the waking world. During those nights she’d go to Robb, lifting him from his crib to hold him tightly to her as though his presence alone could magically make the horrible nightmares go away. Miraculously they did, holding him brought a sense of security Sansa didn’t know she was missing. It was different than what she felt with Jon, his security came from his willingness to protect her while the security she felt with Robb was all her own, her willingness to protect him. That strength she so wished for seemed within her grasp when she had the babe within her arms.

Sometimes she’d suffer the stiffness and aches in her back by sleeping in the rocking chair with Robb, other times she would just carry him to her room, huddling him around with pillows as she could fall asleep beside him, her fingers stroking his soft cheek.

After the first few incidents of wet nurses crying for help and searching the whole of Winterfell for baby Robb only to find him with their Lady of Winterfell it became a common occurrence for her to wake and find one of the wet nurses’ sitting in a chair while she fed him.

Watching Robb suckle at the nurse’s breast had more than once caused an ache inside her chest. She wanted that, Sansa realized later. She wanted to be able to care for him like that, vaguely she remembered her mother stating how nursing a babe brought a closeness and bond between the mother and baby that nothing else they did could compare. Lady Catelyn had nursed her children most of the time; only during an off time would she allow a wet nurse to feed her babes. If she could, Sansa knew she would do the same for Robb.

It was times like those that her thoughts went to his mother.

She didn’t know Daenerys well, didn’t really bother to know her considering how she felt about her and Jon’s love affair. The most she knew was that she liked being called Dany, she had three dragons she hatched herself (two by the time she formally met her) and she was strong-willed. Sansa could see how Jon would be attracted to her with such a strong personality that commanded people to listen to her words, to pay her mind when she spoke. She was beautiful too; Sansa had to admit, with her white blonde hair and violet eyes. There was something about her that just drew you in, even when you disliked her as she had.

During the short time Dany was there at Winterfell with Jon before the war against the Night King, Sansa had noticed the disjointed way they interacted. Jon was reserved, almost holding her at arm’s length while Daenerys was more intimate, demonstrating closeness that Jon just did not show back. It made Sansa wonder, but then they shared chambers together and she knew how notorious Jon could be with his privacy. She assumed he just didn’t like expressing his intimacy publicly.

Sansa pushed a lot of that time from her mind, willing away the painful memories so she wouldn’t have to linger upon them when Jon was gone and so she didn’t remember everything perfectly, but she did remember when Bran told them all about Jon’s parentage. Jon had been told ahead of them and so was quiet while Bran informed her and Arya along with proof from Sam Tarly. Sansa felt shocked, but also relieved in knowing that her feelings weren’t as disgusting and deplorable as she originally thought. It didn’t take long to realize though that what she felt wasn’t so wrong for a cousin, but what Jon had been doing with Dany as his aunt was in most senses wrong. Especially when one took in account the centuries of inbreeding the Targaryen’s were known for.

At that point they were practically siblings by blood terms.

She could see it on his face how wrong he felt it was. Sansa felt bad for him, she wished she had said something to him then, or even later on before he left for war. She didn’t though; she couldn’t bring herself to comfort him when she was still hurting from his decisions that ranged from giving away the North to Daenerys to being with her romantically. Call her selfish, but she couldn’t say anything to him.

That was the biggest regret she held close to her heart, right there along with ever leaving Winterfell and placing her father’s life in jeopardy. Right in the top three regrets of her life.

Sansa cuddled Robb as they lay in her bed, her furs left by her feet since it was so warm within the room. She gently tickled under his chin, tracing patterns on his naked chest as he slept so soundly. He was a strange babe from what she was told, normally babies didn’t sleep fully through the night but baby Robb did. He was quiet too, only crying when he needed changing or to be fed, otherwise he was a rather content babe. Sansa leaned over to kiss his soft, rosy cheek.

She wished Jon was here.

Wished he was on the other side of Robb, touching his other cheek while gazing over at Sansa warmly. The thought made her smile, it brought a warmth that encompassed her chest to spread out to her limbs and fingers and toes. His hair would be unbound allowing his wild curls to surround his face; there would be a soft glint in his eyes that would flicker from the babe between them and her eyes. He might even have his hand reached over to trace over her hip and waist, maybe up and down her arm.

“I miss him so much,” Sansa confessed to the night air, closing her eyes in silent pray that he’d know that she missed him and that she needed him here.

She needed him to come home…

 

\------------------------

 

It was bothering her.

Sansa had woken that morning to find a wet nurse seated by her bed, baby Robb in her arms, suckling at her breast. She thought it was just a normal ache that any woman who took care of a child would feel. Of course, if she could, she would feed Robb like a mother, but she couldn’t. Sansa had never been pregnant; her breasts would not produce the milk needed to sustain his life as the wet nurses could.

Still, it bothered more than she thought it would.

Thoughts of allowing Robb to suckle at her breast seemed to plague her each time she held him. There had been a few times that he tried when she held him just right, she would blush fiercely though, moving him around quickly. Sansa felt embarrassed by her want or was it need? At this point, she couldn’t be sure, but it was there every time she witnessed him feeding.

It came to a head one night though. Sansa hadn’t been able to sleep, her mind full of stress as one of the unstable chambers in the lower end of the keep had fallen in. No one was seriously hurt, but that meant there was more work to do. She had laid Robb in her bed, rocking him to sleep first then proceeded to pace around her chambers as she thought up solutions to Winterfell’s problems.

Robb made a cooing noise, drawing her attention onto him. He moved around, blinking rapidly before he started to make fussy noises. Sansa sighed, crawling onto the bed to pick him up. “You should be sleeping, little one,” she stated sweetly, rocking him though that did nothing to stop his fussiness.

He turned his head into her chest then he placed his mouth over her nightgown, trying to find her nipple to suckle. Sansa took a sharp intake of breath, freezing as he continued to search. The right thing to do would be to shift him around, adjusting her hold as so he wouldn’t seek her breast out. Yet that wasn’t what she wanted to do.

Sansa looked around herself, as though she expected someone to be watching her. She just wanted to feel closer to him though, to know what her mother had always felt when she breastfed her own children, and though Robb wouldn’t gain anything from her, she still wanted to try. With trembling hands, she set him back on the bed, ignoring his fussiness to unbutton her nightgown.

This was insane, she thought, no reasonable person does this. Still, she didn’t care. For a moment she went back and forth over which breast before deciding on her right, the larger of the two. She picked up Robb again, walking over to the seat the wet nurses sat at and situated him in her arms. His skin felt so smooth against her breast, almost immediately since he instinctively knew what to do, his mouth searched and quickly latched onto her nipple.

It felt strange. His warm tongue was so soft like the rest of him, and he suckled so softly too. Sansa wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do, but when she looked down to see him with his eyes closed smoothly, a little hand curled into a fist against her breast while he tried to nurse on her; it brought tears to her eyes.

I feel like he’s mine. Her vision became blurry as she watched Robb nurse at her breast, the feelings flowing through her were almost overwhelming. The stress she had been enduring earlier seemed to melt away now. She felt so much closer to him than ever before. Sansa rubbed the downy hair on his head, crying, even more, when he sighed tenderly at her touch. Was this what all mothers felt?

Sansa repented herself; she wasn’t his mother, no matter how much she wished she was, she wasn’t. Technically, I’m only his aunt, she thought sadly, brushing his hair again. That didn’t change how she felt though, that didn’t change the feeling of love she felt for him.

She let him nurse for a few more minutes, lamenting between disgust at herself for thinking she had a right to do this, and overwhelming love and warmth at how close she felt to him. Robb seemed reluctant to release her nipple, but he was mostly asleep at this point, so it was easy to get him to unlatch and lay back in his spot on her bed. Sansa took a moment to look at her breast, her nipple was redder than before and wet, but there was no difference between what it normally looked like.

She shook her head, buttoning up her nightgown again. Why had she believed that she would magically produce milk for him after that? It was wishful thinking; nothing else. Suddenly, Sansa was feeling awfully tired. She quickly blew out the candles, stoked the fire to keep them warm then got into bed beside Robb.

It was a one-time thing, a small experience she would lock away in the back of her mind for when she eventually, if ever, have children of her own.

At least, that was what she told herself.

\----

Sansa knocked briskly on the door, nerves making her jittery as she waited. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, but the urge to breastfeed Robb hadn’t gone away after that night. She caught herself a few times getting ready to try again, but she held herself at bay. He wasn’t going to get anything from her as she reminded herself. But then she had a conversation with one of the wet nurses that morning.

The woman was in her early thirties; she had four children of her own though the youngest was weaned off from breastfeeding for a year now, so she was the wet nurse Sansa seen the most with Robb. Curiosity made her ask about breastfeeding, and before long Delia told her about her niece, and how she got her body to produce milk for a baby in need though she had never had a child herself.

Learning this, Sansa bombarded her with question after question. The poor woman couldn’t give her much detail aside that her niece had bonded with the baby and it seemed her body did the rest. It was that conversation that led her here.

“Lady Sansa,” Maester Samwell greeted, smiling gently as he opened his door to let her in. She felt nervous asking her questions, but Jon had stated that Sam read a lot and knew many obscure things. It seemed only natural to ask him her questions, especially considering he’s a maester as well. “What is it that I can do for you?”

“I have some questions that I think you can answer for me, Maester Tarly,” Sansa started, taking a seat when offered.

“Please, call me Sam.” She smiled with a nod, stated for him to call her Sansa too. “What is your questions?” he asked after seating himself. She liked how attentive he was, almost eager to hear her question and give an answer, it helped to ease her nerves.

“Is there…that is, is it possible for a woman who has never been pregnant be able to produce milk?” Sansa pursed her lips together, clamping her hands together as well to keep them from shaking. Sam blinked slowly, processing her question. “I mean, I know it’s a strange question but-No, it isn’t.”

Sam flushed at interrupting her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted you, but it’s not a strange question at all. And the answer is yes, it is possible.”

Sansa’s shoulders slumped in relief, her smile coming easier as her nerves seemed to disappear altogether. “How?”

“How?” he echoed, wide-eyed like an owl.

“Yes, how is it possible?” Sam jumped up, startling her at how quick the large man was as he seemed to search through his books and scrolls. There were so many of them; she wondered how he ever kept it organized at all.

“Well, sometimes the body does it all its own when a baby is in need. It can come from bonding, but you can also stimulate the breast and try feeding even if there is nothing to give, it can make the body realize in a way, and then the breasts will enlarge like in pregnancy as it produces milk.” Sam searched high and low, before calling out in success and producing a rather smallish book. He came back over, setting the book on the table then sliding it closer to her. “It’s all in there.”

Sansa drew her gaze down at the book, wanting to pick it and look, but apprehension kept her at bay. “Oh Sam, I was just asking, you needn’t have searched for this for me.” When she looked back up, Sam was smiling softly at her. She should have known he would know; he was a smart man.

“Take it; it might be useful for you,” he ushered her, smiling brighter when she picked the book up.

“Thank you, I truly appreciate it.” He waved her off, stating it was what he was here for. Sansa smiled again then made her exit, rushing back to her chambers with the book pressed to her chest.

Sansa waited until it was nighttime before she opened the book with a glass of Arbor gold by her side. She read the book thoroughly, going over passages a few times to memorize the words. It was a rather small book, so it wasn’t surprising that she finished it quickly. She went back to specific pages, rereading what was written before she tried herself.

Robb was sleeping soundly on her bed, she could hear his little snores from where she sat in front of the fireplace. Sansa unbuttoned her nightgown again, this time pulling her arms through the sleeves, so both of her breasts were out. Following the instructions in the book, she started to massage her breasts, trying to find her ‘sweet spot’ as the book called it. An area that could stimulate the body into producing milk.

She pressed her fingers around, following the book as it stated it could be around her areola. She leaned forward in her seat as she pressed around, a shiver came to her at one spot on her right breast, it was safe to assume that was her ‘sweet spot.’ The book stated it took time, that it should always feel comfortable, and that she would have to do this a few times a day until she got her body to do what she wanted.

Sansa wished it could be sooner, but nothing worth having ever came easily.

So, each night and each morning, she would massage her breasts, stroking her ‘sweet spot’ and following the rest of the instructions as best she could. Sansa hadn’t felt like she was doing much, there didn’t seem to be a change for her, none that she noticed.

But then Arya made a fleeting comment one day, frowning at her chest and stating that they looked more prominent than usual. Her sister arched a brow at her suspiciously, but Sansa shrugged her off. Yet when she went to her chambers that night, she realized her sister had been right, her breasts were larger than before. She hadn’t noticed considering she never wore corsets anymore, and all her dresses were made loose enough for her to dress herself.

It was three nights later that she felt a drop of liquid come out of her nipple. Sansa gasped, staring down at the droplet on the stone floor. Was that milk? Pursing her lips together, she continued her routine, gasping again when more sprouted up. Tears came to her eyes, it had worked! Sansa kept going, doing as instructed and per her routine while tears leaked down her face.

It would be another few nights before she would try again with Robb. She had an awkward and uncomfortable moment with Sam, wishing to be absolutely sure she was lactating as she thought. They were both red in the face while she demonstrated for him, and she couldn’t get out of the chambers fast enough when he concurred that she was lactating.

Now, here she was again, her nightgown unbuttoned with her right breast exposed. Sansa made sure to test her breast first before picking Robb up. He was wide awake, looking at her and smiling. She smiled back nervously, cradling him up to her bosom like before. At first, Robb didn’t seem interested, he pressed a hand against her breast but otherwise did not seem to want to feed.

Sansa tried not to feel disappointed by his disinterest. It would take time, as all things did, and then she’ll have her chance to try. She rocked him instead, telling him stories about her childhood to draw him to slumber. She was in the middle of telling him about the time his father had covered himself in flour as ghost down in the crypts when she felt his mouth latch onto her nipple. Sansa gasped at the touch, looking down to see him adjust then start to suckle on her nipple.

If the first time felt strange, the second time was even more peculiar, especially now that she was producing milk. She could feel him suckling milk from her breast, the odd tug of liquid leaving her body. Once he realized he was getting something from her, he nursed harder, sucking harder for more milk. Tears came to her eyes as she gazed down at him, nursing on her. It felt different this time around. She felt more secure in her decision, and it seemed legitimate now.

Robb sighed noisily against her breast, it was so peaceful at that moment. She cradled his small head, stroking his fuzzy hair. She felt like a mother even more now than before, and this time there was no disgust at herself for doing this. It felt organic, she felt like he was genuinely hers, and the fact that he was nursing from her made that feeling even more whole and natural.

At some point she switched him to her left breast, softly rocking him in her arms as she continued her story. Robb fell asleep with a full belly, still softly nursing at her nipple in his slumber. She placed him in his spot, forgoing closing up her nightgown to cuddle beside him.

This would be their little secret…

 

\------------------------

 

Sansa was extremely happy that she had decided to let Robb lay on one of her furs on the floor of her solar with a toy to suck at and was not holding him, otherwise she was sure she’d drop him right along with the letter. She snatched it up quickly, flipping it back over to re-read the contents within. It was a letter from Davos stating that Jon and the rest of them were coming back North.

They were coming home.

Her heart exploded with joy, she dropped the letter again going along with it down to her hands and knees where she crawled over to Robb to lay down with him. She pulled him close to her though he squirmed from the hold, having dropped his toy that entertained him so.

“He’s coming home, sweetling,” Sansa said joyfully, snuggling her cheek against the temple of his head. “Your father’s coming home,” she uttered tearfully, curling herself around him.

Arya found her like that after she was allowed admittance into Sansa’s room. Arya arched a brow at the display she made before she waved at the letter for her sister to read. It was only a moment before Arya was laying down on the other side of Robb, smiling just as happily as Sansa was, running a hand through baby Robb’s hair.

“He’s finally coming home,” Arya said just as surprised as Sansa was. She nodded brightly, pressing a kiss to Robb’s head.

“It’ll be another moon before they arrive, but soon.”

Arya closed her eyes to relish the feeling she supposed, she then dropped her hand over top of Sansa’s, giving it a squeeze. For all the credit she gave her sister for her strength and battle prowess Sansa never gave her credit for being insightful, for seeing things that most people over looked. Arya came across as crass and hard, but she somehow kept a softness inside her that she only reserved for in times that called for it.

Those tended to include anything to do with baby Robb and now. Sansa turned her hand over on the babe’s stomach to clasp her hand with Arya’s, squeezing it within her own. There was an understanding in her sister’s eyes; Arya knew all about how bad Sansa felt over her treatment of Jon before he left. The thoughts that plagued her continuously. Her sister never stated, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Arya suspected the true feelings hidden behind the words she spoke. That brought on a whole new set of fears that she would rather not face, the brief flash of fear in her eyes caused her sister to squeeze her hand back.

She spoke quietly, “Everything will be alright.”

“We didn’t part on good terms,” Sansa admitted sadly, releasing her sister’s hand to flip onto her back and gaze up at the ceiling. “I’m not so sure he would want to see me.”

“Jon isn’t one to hold grudges,” Arya started then amended at the look Sansa tossed her way, “well he wouldn’t hold grudges against his family.”

“It won’t be the same,” Sansa mumbled disheartenly, folding her hands on her stomach as she closed her eyes. She had refused to take the babe from his arms that night when he arrived from the battle field. He looked so disappointed in her when she stepped back from him; one of her handmaidens stepped forward to take baby Robb as Jon was led away to be checked on his wounds.

Sansa didn’t say much to him then, or once he announced he would join Jamie and Tyrion Lannister down South to help repair the broken state King’s Landing was left in by Cersei. He had embraced her siblings’ goodbye, but she didn’t come down. She couldn’t say goodbye to him, she was afraid if she did then he’d never return. Jon glanced up at her where she stood on the balcony almost a perfect mirror image of when he originally left for the South only moons earlier. She bitterly wondered if he’d have another southron woman to bring home when he came back.

If he came back.

Now he was coming back and though she was excited and happy to hear, fear dwelled deeply inside her chest. How would he react to her once he was home? Would he set aside their differences and forgive her for her coldness towards him? What would he think of her now that she cared so deeply for his son?

The same son she refused to hold when he had just been born only an hour earlier from his dying mother’s last breath. She heard from Arya that Daenerys didn’t die from childbirth, she was dying though. Jon had no choice but to cut her open and pull his premature babe from her body to save his life in exchange for hers. That was why he arrived with bloody arms; they weren’t from his own wounds.

It was a heartbreaking sacrifice.

He had to kill a woman he loved to save his child. Though in hindsight she was slowly dying he only quicken the process and that couldn’t have been easy for him. Sansa felt so heartless for how she reacted, of course she had not known the extent of what happened to result in the baby being born but she did wish for Daenerys to die during battle. She wondered if the gods had heard her prayers and granted them. Sansa hoped that were not true, the thought made it hard for her to breath.

Maybe this was what she deserved? She wished for nothing good to happen to someone then wished it on their son, maybe she deserved anything horrible that came her way for her horrendous thoughts and evil prayers.

“Nothing can ever stay the same, we can only hope it will change for the better,” Arya remarked wisely, flipping onto her own back to stare up at the ceiling.

“Things don’t stay bad forever, but they don’t stay good forever either,” Sansa responded back, turning her head to catch Arya’s eyes.

“It’s all about balance.” Sansa nodded her agreement closing her eyes.

Balance; such a precarious thing that was so hard to achieve in life, it was a constant act of trying to walk the thin line between two extremes. Sansa knew she wasn’t very good at it, more times than not she had leaned far too close to one extreme rather than traveling the middle ground between. Was there any way to truly walk that middle ground completely balanced? Was it an act that you had to achieve on your own, or was it something that was only achievable with the right person?

Sansa figured she would learn that lesson when the time came.

 

\------------------------

 

Sansa allowed her fingers to become icy cold, almost numb in the left-over snow before letting her index and middle finger be dragged into Robb’s mouth to chew on. He was teething, his first tooth coming in harshly and causing great discomfort for him. She found if she allowed her fingers to go numb she wouldn’t feel any pain from his constant chewing on them to relieve him of his pain. She never knew how hard gums could be ‘til they were gnawing on her.

She held Robb as they waited for Jon’s arrival. It was Arya’s idea that Sansa hold the babe. Her sister thought that it would be more welcoming for Jon to see that Sansa had set aside her bitter feelings towards the baby and what Robb represented to care for him as the family he was.

Bran seconded the idea and that only solidified the plan, and considering Bran knew most future events Sansa was inclined to believe that she would get a good reaction for doing it. It helped that Robb seemed to want to only be held by her as well. Arya was a bit put off that Robb would get fussy with her only to calm down when she handed him off to Sansa.

“It’s only because you have a soft, womanly figure and as a babe he craves that in a mother,” Arya said in a considering tone that made Sansa flush at the implication. Sure, she took care of most of his handling, but she wasn’t trying to be his mother, right?

Standing there as they waited with the gates open to welcome everyone home Sansa couldn’t help but think over what her sister had said. Robb was trying to talk more, babbling to anyone who would listen. It was quite adorable when Bran held him as the babe babbled to him; it never failed to bring a slight lift at the corner of his lips.

What would happen when he started saying words? Would he call her mama? A chill ran down her spine as a bubble of bliss rolled around her stomach at the thought of him calling her mama. It was wrong though; she wasn’t his mother and never would be.

Sansa winced as the sharp edge of his coming in tooth bit into the knuckle of her finger. Robb whimpered when she pulled her finger from his mouth to bend down and dip them back into the snow again. It was then they heard the shout from the battlements causing her to abruptly stand up straight. Robb whined at her so she stuck her fingers back into his mouth to soothe him even though it pained her.

Love is pain, she supposed.

A jolt shocked through her at the sight of Jon. He led the way into Winterfell, looking much as he did before he left. His beard a bit fuller than before and his hair longer than she remembered forcing him to have it pulled all back at the nape of his neck, but the rest of him was the same.

There was a broad smile on his lips as he looked around, taking everything in as he was gone for almost six moons. She felt another jolt this time going down her back but pooling warmly in her stomach when his eyes connected with hers. His smile lessen some, but when he looked down to take in the fact that she was carrying his son the smile broaden again.

Sansa smiled lightly, feeling a slight twitch in her cheek that refused to go away when she tried to smile bigger. She was nervous; anxiety was playing a tough game on her stomach, trying to push aside the warm, tender feelings of seeing Jon again. He dropped down from his horse quickly, coming up to them so fast that she just wasn’t prepared for him to be standing there in front of her like he was now. Jon stared into her eyes for a moment then looked to his son; his hair was just starting to curl much like his father’s.

“Hi sweetling,” Jon said softly, his deep voice rumbling through her body as he gazed at his son. He touched his head lightly then moved to take him into his arms but he fussed, trying to turn and attach himself to Sansa instead. She opened her mouth to say something, anything as he looked discouraged from his son’s reaction, but Arya beat her to it.

“Don’t let it upset you, Jon, he only ever wants Sansa any way,” Arya stated bluntly, tugging him into her arms where he returned the embrace. Sansa shifted Robb in her arms so he settled a bit on her hip though he was still too small for that, he was just shy of six moons but still smaller than a normal babe of his age.

Jon glanced at her before going to Bran and hugging him. Davos appeared, greeting them warmly as Tormund came up with a great old smile. He ruffled Robb’s head a little too roughly for Sansa’s tastes but she held her tongue knowing he didn’t mean it meanly. Brienne bowed to her as she came up; smiling at the sight of her though she looked a bit questioning when she took notice of the babe in her arms.

Jon came back to her then once more touching his son fondly, a sad look in his eyes as he took in how much he had aged. He then looked up to once more connect eyes with Sansa.

“Hello Jon,” Sansa finally said, smiling softly towards him. After a moment he smiled back, laughing lines forming around his mouth as he did.

“Hello Sansa,” he replied, giving her a nod as well.

It was more than she thought she’d get from him, it wasn’t a hug but it was so much better than the worse thing she could think of and she was sure he’d ignore her existence even with his son in her arms.

“I’m sure everyone is hungry from your long journey, we have food and drink prepared,” Sansa said cordially, turning to lead them inside though they all knew where they were going. Anything to escape his eyes, if only for a moment, she thought. His stare was more intense than she remembered, more open to read his emotions too.

Arya seemed to sense her discomfort and took over for Sansa to which she was very grateful for though that didn’t save her from sitting beside Jon as he ate. Robb sat in her lap, watching everyone eat and looking around at his surroundings. Jon kept glancing between his food and his son, amazement twinkling in his eyes. Once he had his fill he turned towards her more though his eyes remained on Robb.

“He has become so big,” Jon stated astonishingly, taking Robb’s small hand into his own allowing his tiny fingers to grip Jon’s thicker and bigger index finger.

“He is still small for his age, but he is healthy,” Sansa said proudly, cocking her head to the side to glimpse his face as he stared intensely at his father’s finger.

“How did this come to be?” Jon asked quietly, causing confusion in her. She raised an eyebrow, giving him a disbelieving look.

“How he came to be this small?” she clarified uncertainly, surely, he knew that pulling him almost two months early from his birth would result in him being smaller. Jon flushed at her question, shaking his head as he looked about them.

“No, how did you come to be his caretaker?” Sansa felt her stomach drop as he returned his gaze to hers.

It was simple enough to say that she just decided to care for him, but it wasn’t that simple. She went through such turmoil before she concluded she could never hate this little being and that now…she loved him like he was her own.

That love scared her though because he was not hers. She was not his mother nor would she ever be. It was a good thing Sansa wasn’t eating because she felt sick to her stomach at the thoughts making their rounds inside her head. She ducked her head to avoid looking at him as she replied, “Someone had to do it.”

When she gained the courage to look up she found Jon looking perplexed by her answer, his brows knitted downward while he looked to be at a loss for words. Sansa supposed that probably wasn’t the best thing to say, but it was the easiest answer to give. Robb started fussing more in her lap, his teething getting the best of him. Sansa reached over to Jon’s ale asking, “Do you mind?”

Confused, he shook his head then watched as she dipped her finger into his drink then proceeded to rub her finger along Robb’s gums. He practically shouted, “What are you doing?!”

“He’s teething, Jon. Ale helps to numb his gums so it doesn’t hurt as much,” Sansa answered laughingly, her smile feeling more natural as she directed it at him. He nodded though he looked like he wasn’t so sure of her words. He glanced over to Sam Tarly, probably thinking of asking him if that was alright. She didn’t mind though, he was only going to be learning how to be a father now.

The realization struck down on her like lighting shooting down from the skies above. He was going to be a father now, a true father, so what would happen to her? Her fears reared their ugly heads, whispering how she would never get to have Robb alone again, how she would have to sleep alone most nights now where her nightmares could catch up to her. Now that Jon was home he could take care of his son as she had been doing, he wouldn’t need her.

Neither of them would need her now.

Sansa bit the inside of her cheek as she bounced Robb on her knee gently. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize Jon was asking her something ‘til his hand landed on her bouncing knee, closing his large hand around her kneecap to still her movement and get her attention. She froze at his touch, first staring at his hand that closed more firmly around her knee then up his arm to his eyes. Once he knew he had her attention did he release her knee.

“Sansa, I am going to need your help,” Jon insisted gently.

“Help with what?” Sansa asked in confusion, what possible help could he need of her? She just concluded that neither of them would need her, right?

“I don’t know anything about my son, I don’t know how to be…how to be a father,” Jon admitted anxiously, looking ashamed for his admittance. “Arya says he only ever wants you, so will you please help me.”

Sansa opened her mouth at his query, finding she was a bit speechless. His words did help to dispel the irritating voices of doubt that whispered in her ears earlier though. “Alright, I can do that.”

Jon reached over slowly, grasping her hand into his gently. Warmth spread throughout her fingers and hand traveling down her arm to warm her stomach at his gesture and touch. He smiled more naturally as he said gratefully, “Thank you, Sansa.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a wild trip and it will only get more emotional before it gets better. I hope y'all enjoyed this first part, please leave me a review to let me know whatcha think and *fingers crossed* I get part 2 revised and posted soon!! Thank y'all for reading!! ^_~


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/16/18: There is an added section and alteration to this chapter that coincides with Sansa learning to breastfeed in the previous chapter, and it gives more revelation and agency to when Jon states that Sansa is Robb’s mother. I hope y’all enjoy the addition. Website I used for reference: https://breastfeedingusa.org/content/article/breastfeeding-your-adopted-baby-0

 

 

It was an adjustment to getting use to Jon being back home. Sansa found it surprising that though she missed him dearly she had grown use to not seeing him around. Even a week having gone by she would jump when she spotted him talking with Sam, or training out in the courtyard, or even eating in the hall with his bannermen. Her heart would jump into her throat and she’d freeze in place for a second, taking him in like it was that first day.

She was quick to correct herself though. It wouldn’t do for anyone to notice her pauses as she gazed unblinkingly at him.

Another thing that had some getting use to was him constantly being in Robb’s chambers. Sansa had a set routine with the babe, if she didn’t pull him from his crib then she’d visit him first thing in the morning before she broke her fast. Finding Jon there already was startling.

She watched as he held his son in his arms, gazing on his small face that resembled his in wonder and bliss. Sansa found herself leaning against the doorframe, watching the exchange with a smile on her lips. Jon was also so hyper aware though, it didn’t take him but a moment to realize they were not alone.

“He’s amazing,” Jon uttered in wonderment, glancing over at her briefly before pulling Robb into his arms for a hug. The babe was a little distant with him, unsure of who the man holding him was.

It broke her heart when he noticed her and started calling out to her while trying to escape Jon’s arms. The dismay on his face tore at her heart as he allowed his son to transfer into her arms instead.

“Sorry Jon, we have a routine,” Sansa apologized in way of explanation, giggling when Robb opened his mouth and placed it on her jawline. He didn’t quite understand kissing yet, but he tried.

Jon’s face soften as he watched them. Sansa couldn’t help but snuggle her nose with Robb’s gaining a giggle that lighten the atmosphere between them.

“He really likes you,” Jon noted, coming up to give Robb a smile.

“He’ll come to like you as well, it’s only been a few days. He will come around.” Jon looked like he didn’t fully believe her, but he didn’t comment further either.

Sansa led the way to the hall, Robb was just starting to eat some solid foods like mashed bananas and potatoes. He still required a wet nurse and would till he was two years old then they would wane him off towards solid foods completely.

He allowed Jon to feed him some bananas while he sat in Sansa’s lap. It warmed her heart to see the way Jon treated his son, he had always been good with children. She could remember a time when they were younger how he would always make time for his younger siblings. Well, when we were his siblings, Sansa mentally amended as she took a bite of her honeyed bread.

She was sure he’d be a natural once he grew more confident with his son. She could already tell he was fearful of handling him too much, fearful that he might her the little babe. Robb was made of stronger stuff though, just like his parents.

Sansa felt a dull ache in her heart as she reminded herself that she was an aunt, not a mother…

The next part of their routine was spending time in her solar as she read over lodgers, worked out some basic plans for the coming moon and handle any letters sent by bannermen. Yet with Jon and Davos back most of her jobs were being taken up though Jon’s Hand would be leaving for his home for a while.

His wife and sons missed him, and he had been away from home for far too long.

Still with them there the order of operation switched to Jon’s solar instead, changing her meticulous routine once more. She didn’t mind, or at least she told herself she didn’t mind as she played with Robb on the floor while Jon looked over the lodgers she had already written up.

It wasn’t all bad though.

Jon still included her heavily in the topics of discussion and she got to play with Robb as well, more so than she could when she had to sit at the desk and write. She caught Jon a few times wistfully watching them, a glazed look in his eyes lingered upon them before he was drawn into the subject at hand.

This was probably one of the points in her routines with Robb that didn’t bother her all that much, especially since she could not only be with the babe but with Jon as well. It was easier to look him over too when he was so engrossed in his work. It reminded her of how good being a King looked on him.

It also reminded her of how much she truly missed him…

Sansa laughed brightly as Robb chased after the bubbles in the tub. Her favorite part of her routine was bath time with him. She never let him bathe alone. The water was never very high, only up to her bellybutton, but she held him during most of the bath.

She could remember vague memories of her mother doing the same with her and Arya. Sansa remembered the absolute joy she found in bathing with her mother and sister, the splashing and bubbles. She couldn’t resist the first time she joined Robb in the bath. He was sitting up better than before though he still needed support.

It made the most sense to join him to give that better support.

Sansa cradled him with her chest and legs as she smoothed water over his head and through his thicken hair. She wished for it and sure enough his dark brown hair was curling up like Jon’s with a thickness that she envied.

Hearing the door open, she assumed it was one of her handmaidens, come to help wash her hair. She found it wasn’t though.

“JON!!” Sansa shrieked, tugging Robb up to cover her modesty as Jon turned his back abruptly. “What are you doing here?!” she continued to yell causing poor Robb to start crying from her loud voice. “Oh, it’s alright sweet one,” she mumbled as she flipped him around to comfort him.

“I’m sorry, I heard you were giving Robb a bath and I wanted to help,” Jon stated quickly as he kept his back to them.

Once the babe calmed down, she responded, “I am giving him a bath, and taking one myself.”

“I didn’t realize.” Sansa looked over to see his shoulders hitched up around his neck with his hands braced at his back. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at how tense he was. “Is that normal? To bathe with him?”

“Yes, it is.” She continued to watch as his shoulders settled down, but he kept his tense stance. “My mother did it with all of us.”

Jon was quiet for a long moment then mumbled so softly she barely heard him, “I didn’t have a mother to do that with…”

Sansa sucked in air tightly through her mouth. Robb splashed some water loudly, leaning down to gurgle in the water for his enjoyment. She hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t realized for Jon it wasn’t something he would know because it wasn’t something that was ever done with him. Her throat felt thick.

“In my defense, Arya said you were bathing him, not bathing with him,” Jon mentioned stiffly as though trying to ease the awkward silence between them.

“I am sure she did not mention it,” Sansa commented drily as she brought more water up to wash some suds off Robb’s back. She wondered if her sister was just being forgetful, or if she didn’t bother to state how Robb was bathed on purpose.

“I’ll uh…I’ll leave you both to it,” Jon finally announced, moving to leave the room. Before she could stop herself, she called out to him to wait. He almost turned around towards her but stopped midway before giving his back once more.

“You…you should do this with him.”

“Do what?” he asked curiously, making her spell it out for him. Sansa swallowed around the thickness in her throat. She didn’t really want to offer her bathing time with Robb to him, it was the one thing out of the day she did not have to share him with anyone else.

But it was inconsiderate to keep him away from his father, and it was a great bonding experience they both needed with each other too.

“When his next bath comes, you should bathe with him,” Sansa said lightheartedly, hoping he didn’t hear how thick her voice sounded from the offer. Jon was quiet for a moment, contemplating the idea then nodded slowly.

“Aye…I’d like that, but are you sure?” It was like he knew how much she cherished her time with Robb in the tub. He was so shrew and observant, it was no wonder he’d know. Sansa sighed softly, willing away any sadness to bright up a smile though he didn’t see it.

“Of course! You need to bond with him, Jon. He’s your son.”

Those last three words grated against her heart. _He’s your son._ Not mine, Sansa thought with a hint of sorrow, not mine at all.

There was a knock and Jon opened the door a crack before allowing her handmaiden in. She blushed at the sight of him there, glancing between her and him curiously. Jon took his leave then, stated he’d see her later at a more appropriate time.

Sansa mumbled a goodbye as her handmaiden came over to start washing her hair. She wondered what else of her routine would be changed, would she ever have alone time with Robb at all? She tried not to take it personal, Jon had asked her to help him get to know his son, to help him take care of his son like a proper father would.

It wasn’t right to feel bitter over the whole ordeal.

Still, that didn’t stop the tears welling in her eyes as she gazed down at Robb. It didn’t stop the ache inside her chest, and it most certainly didn’t stop the realization that soon enough Robb would truly not need her anymore.

Neither of them will…

 

 

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It was a fortnight before Ghost came home to Winterfell.

Jon allowed his direwolf to find his freedom out in the wolfwoods, possible making his own pack of wolves, or if Arya’s dreams are any indication then joining Nymeria’s pack. Still the white furred, red eyed direwolf was a loner at best (outsider at worst) and more conditioned around humans than Nymeria was.

The reunion between Jon and Ghost was sweet, even more so when he came up to her, rubbing his nose against her hip lovingly. It was what happened next that made her extremely anxious.

Her fingers twitched as she stood by watching Ghost as he sniffed Robb’s head. She knew the giant direwolf would never harm the baby, he was as much a part of Jon as his son but it still didn’t stop the anxiety welling inside Sansa’s tummy as she watched the interaction. Instinct was driving her to snatch the babe up into her arms, but she held it at bay.

Jon was smiling softly while holding Robb in his arms as the baby reached out a hand towards Ghost’s face, giggling when it encountered the direwolf’s wet nose.

The sound softened her instincts and she also bent down to be level with Jon and Robb while running a hand through Ghost’s fur. She missed him too. Since Jon and his company had returned home, things were slowly going back to the norm with the King in the North home. After his initial reluctance of his father Robb started to interact with him more, even so far as to want him over Sansa at times. She knew it shouldn’t bother her, but it did.

She used to be his favorite.

Aside from that she was enjoying spending time with both Jon and Robb, like Arya had stated he didn’t hold a grudge against the way she had acted towards him. He hadn’t exactly said he had forgiven her, but he also hadn’t been acting like he was bothered by her presence either. Sansa chalked it up to the fact that it really didn’t matter now, he was needed where he belonged for the North’s sake and his son’s, and if she thought about it more for her sake too.

Robb was becoming more active, his little arms and legs wiggling and kicking around as he tried to move. Sansa was informed that normally at this age he would start to try flipping over to his stomach, but the poor babe was just so small. He was smaller than some of the babies that were born after him.

A side effect of being forced to be born before he was ready Sam had told her, but she was also encouraged that he hadn’t shown any other side effects developing wise, so he should eventually catch up with the rest.

Both Sam and Gilly were helpful and knowledgeable when it came to Robb. Sam being a maester and learning all he can for his job at Winterfell and Gilly, whom already had her son, little Sam and had helped when her sisters had babies back at Crastor’s keep. Sansa wasn’t sure she would have gotten this far without either of them.

“Are you sleeping okay?” Jon asked, snapping Sansa from her musings to notice him watching her carefully. She felt perplexed by his question but nodded none-the-less.

“I have been sleeping just fine, why do you ask?” Actually, she hadn’t been sleeping well at all.

Ever since Jon had come home he made it a habit of spending many a night by Robb’s crib, even falling asleep in the rocking chair with his son in his arms like she had done previously. Once she was relinquished of the babe was when her nightmares came back, it made sleeping throughout the night hard. Sansa had hoped that it wasn’t noticeable, but she should have known hoping would do nothing.

Hope never did much for her before.

“You seem tired,” Jon said quietly, staring at her with concern shining in his eyes. She averted her sight down to Robb’s head as the babe continued to giggle to himself while touching Ghost’s nose. The direwolf looked like he didn’t enjoy being touched there but stayed because he was curious of Robb. She wondered if he smelled similar to Jon and that Ghost could make the connection between them.

“Honestly, I am always tired,” Sansa stated while trying to stifle a yawn.

“Aye, the work doesn’t end,” he commented with a sag of his shoulders. She could only imagine the work he had done down South before coming home only to work even more.

Davos helped with some of the work load when speaking to their bannerman, but the rest laid heavily on Jon’s shoulders. Sansa did as much as she could as well, but he was right; the work just doesn’t end.

“It may not ever end, but it will get easier,” Sansa assured, reaching over to brush back the curls that were forming more and more each day on Robb’s head. “He’ll need a haircut soon,” she mused before looking up at Jon to add, “You will need a haircut soon as well.”

Jon chuckled, reaching up to touch his own hair that was bound to the back of his head.

“What? You don’t like my hair long?” he asked in amusement, unbinding his hair and shaking it out. It draped around his shoulders and came to a few inches down, it was full and thick looking.

Without thinking Sansa reached up to touch his hair, running her fingers through it as she tested how heavy it was. Jon watched her, his smile waning as he regarded her carefully.

“I’d like your hair unbound like it was growing up,” Sansa mumbled between them, bringing her fingers through his hair down to the ends. She could see his throat bobbing nervously causing her to remember herself.

Immediately she stood up and stepped back to give them some distance, her face flushing by her boldness. Jon stood as well, his cheeks also flushing. Robb kicked around in his arms, babbling as he stared at Ghost intently like he wanted to cuddle the wolf. Gulping, Sansa waved her hand as she stated, “In a few days you both should have your hair cut.”

Then as quickly as she could, she walked away. What came over her? Touching him like she had a right too. Her fingers tingled as she remembered the feel of his hair on her skin, the heat coming off his body as she crouched close to him. A fluttering erupted in her stomach causing goosebumps to wake on her skin.

This wasn’t the first time she had touched him with such familiarity since he had come back. Lately, it was like she couldn’t help but touch him when he was near, be it a reassuring pat on the shoulder, brushing her fingers on his back when he was nearby, or taking hold of his hand to get his attention. Sansa was making it a habit of touching him, and that would not do.

Jon had been through enough without his once half-sister, now cousin forcing herself on him. He needed to be a King first and foremost then right after that responsibility he needed to be a father. Lover was not something he needed to worry himself about. Sansa willed the warm feelings away she needed to focus on the restoration of Winterfell, not on unrequited feelings.

 

 

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Lately, with Jon taking a heavy interest in his son, and spending all his time with him, it left little to no time for her to breastfeed him as it had been. Sansa was feeling a pain in her breasts, the aching need to dispel the milk inside. She felt mournful more than a few times when she had to release the milk into a chamber pot instead of in Robb’s little tummy.

Sansa was also missing the bonding experience she felt with him, and it seemed that Robb was too. He fussed in her arms, trying to find her nipple whenever she held him across her arms. Jon had watched quizzically as she jostled the babe around, flushing when he had almost latched onto her clothed breast in front of his father. It was still their little secret, though she suspected that Arya and Bran already knew.

The former because she was noisy, and the latter because of his abilities.

The ache in her breasts became so painful, Sansa knew she had to find Robb alone and feed him, and soon.

She got her chance one evening, finding Jon predisposed with Maester Samwell in his chambers. Sansa quickly scurried down the corridors, waving away the wet nurse in Robb’s room when she got there. It was Delia, smiling almost knowingly at her before placing the little babe into her arms and giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze before she left.

Sansa smiled down at Robb’s scrunched up face, pouting and whining at being interrupted during his feeding time. “Don’t be fussy, little one. I’m about to feed you, myself,” she assured, shifting him over her shoulder while she fiddled with the ties on the front of her dress.

She sat down on the rocking chair, pulling her breast out before maneuvering Robb in her arms until he was comfortable. Sensing what was happening and who it was with him, he immediately searched and latched to her nipple, nursing hungrily and greedily. Sansa giggled softly when he snorted a few times in his race to feed on her milk.

Not only did the ache in her breast slowly alleviate, but the aching in her heart did as well. She missed this time so much. The way he seemed to cling to her as he ate, smelling the release of her milk in the air, and his warm body cradled in her arms protectively. Sansa sighed, she couldn’t keep on going like this without him with her. She needed Robb almost as much as he needed her.

But he doesn’t need me, Sansa thought miserably.

He had his father now, and wet nurses that fed the little prince happily. Sansa wasn’t his primary caretaker anymore, nor had she ever been his mother either. Tears welled up in her eyes though she refused to let them fall. Jon didn’t need her and neither did Robb; honestly.

Suddenly, he burped against her breast, detaching to let a smaller one out. Sansa laughed, her tears falling from her eyes. She turned him around, leading him to her other breast. Just as Robb started to nurse again, Sansa noticed a shadow out in the hall. She was startled at the fact that Delia hadn’t shut the door entirely.

The shadow was there and gone though. Had there been somebody there at all? If it was anyone, it might have been Arya. She was light on her feet, sneaking around the castle halls and always catching Sansa by surprise. Her heart pounded in her chest in fear. What if it hadn’t been Arya though? Her eyes drew down to see droplets of milk leaking from her puckered nipple. There was no mistaking what she was doing.

Robb cooed at her breast, rubbing his face into her soft skin as he nursed. It helped to distract her from her fear. Whoever it was that witnessed her secret, she hoped they kept it to themselves. It had been a risk doing this here, she knew that, and still, she had done it. Sansa sighed, maybe this was the last time she would get to bond so lovingly with Robb again.

She told herself once before, and once again, but he didn’t need her anymore, and that hurt even more than the unrequited feelings she had for his father ever did…

 

 

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Sansa was running. Her legs felt like lead and were hard to move, the more she ran, the harder it became. She could hear the yelling and screams, so many cries. Her hands covered her ears, but she could still hear them as though they were right beside her. Some of the screams were unknown to her while others…the others sounded like herself. She had to continue running though; she had to get away before she was captured.

Sansa tried running, she tried and tried and tried! Her legs would not cooperate with her; they refused to work at all resulting in her feet freezing in place onto the ground.

Surely, she would be caught now. There was no escape; there would never be an escape. She was foolish for believing she could, a stupid, little girl who would never learn no matter how many lessons of life were beaten into her head, into her skin, into her soul. They could brand her like cattle, and it would still not make a difference; she would never learn.

The screams got louder as tears leaked from her eyes endlessly. She couldn’t even crawl; she was doomed. Now it was just her screams, and they were coming right out of her mouth. No escape, no freedom.

Like a broken doll she collapsed to the ground and stayed there.

Let them come, she thought. They could think they had won, but she would never break.

She would never break.

She would never break.

She would never….

Sansa gasped harshly as she blinked up at the dark ceiling overhead. Her heart was beating like the flaps of a bird; if she didn’t have a ribcage, she was sure it would escape her body at how fast it moved. There was sweat drying on her skin and treks of drying tears down her cheeks and seeping into her hair, dampening it.

It was the same dream as every night. She couldn’t do this anymore; she needed sleep.

She needed Robb.

It took a moment before Sansa could get up, her legs were shaking like a leaf in the wind and standing on them would only result in crashing to the unforgivingly hard ground. Once she was sure of herself, she got up and left her room, taking the halls blindly in the dark, but with certainty of where she was going. She had done this many nights, so much so Arya had asked why she didn’t bother placing Robb’s crib in her chambers instead. Sansa always answered it was so he had his own room, but in reality, she was afraid she’d become more attached than before.

Hell, she was more attached to the babe than she should be, then she deserved to be.

A sigh of relief left her when she entered his room to see Jon wasn’t there. Sansa didn’t have the heart to take Robb from him if he was already there, it wasn’t her right too. Quickly she came to his crib, pulling him from it to cuddle him into her shoulder. Robb shifted around but otherwise stayed asleep, light snores leaving his mouth.

She felt that security which only he could drape over her like a cloak, a sense of calm came over her entire being. The walk back to her room was slower, more cautious so she wouldn’t wake him and once they were on her bed where he was bracketed by pillows did she truly relax.

Exhaustion edged around her eyes, entrancing her to fall asleep once more. With a tired yawn, Sansa leaned over to brush a swiping kiss on Robb’s forehead before dropping her head beside him and allowing sleep to embrace her.

….

Sansa blinked back sleep as she woke again, she couldn’t have slept more than a few hours. She could feel how fatigued she still was, but something had awakened her. When she peered around in the darkness that was slowly being adjusted by her eyes; she jolted.

Sitting in the seat that normally the wet nurse would be was Jon, leaned back staring over at them. He blinked a few times before noticing she was awake; he gave her a weary smile as he leaned forward to brace his arms against his legs, hands clasping together.

“When I found Robb gone I panicked,” Jon started, his voice rough with exhaustion as it rumbled from his chest. “A night guard told me I’d find him here…”

Sansa curled around Robb, brushing a finger on his forehead. A sigh released as she said, “I have nightmares when he’s not here.”

Jon contemplated her words, nodding his head in understanding. “He keeps the nightmares at bay,” he acknowledged, an echo of haunted pain in his voice. A movement to his right drew Sansa’s eyes where she made out Ghost shifting as he laid there.

Finally, she said the words that made her chest cold, “You can take him back.”

Jon frowned, shaking his head. “He can stay here; you need him more.”

“He’s your son,” she stated tiredly, tears welling up in her eyes. It was only a matter of time before she was reduced from being the primary caretaker to just relative family. She knew it was coming, tried as she might to embrace that terrible fact it still crept up on her and stole her breath away, leaving behind the agonizing pain.

“Aye, he is my son,” Jon declared, pushing off his legs to stand slowly. A crack in his back made her wince though he groaned in relief than pain. He must have been sitting there for a while, possibly for as long as she had slept.

“But you’re his mother.”

Sansa sucked in air harshly, sitting up to gauge his face as his words repeated inside her head. Did he really mean that?

“I’m not his mother,” Sansa said tensely, a tear escaping her eye to trail down her cheek, all alone; like she was. Jon shook his head again, walking over to stand above her and Robb.

“Sansa, just because you did not birth him does not mean he is not your son. It won’t make a difference to him, you have practically raised him while I was gone all these moons.” Sansa continued to shake her head, disbelieving what he was telling her.

Nothing good like this ever happens to her anymore, everything precious to her is taken away time, and again, she was prepared for Jon to take Robb away too. He couldn’t just say that because he was sure to change his mind later. “Sansa.” She shook her head again, wishing he would stop lying to her. “I saw you, the other night,” Jon started, drawing her attention to his face.

He licked his lips, rubbing his thumb across his nose before continuing, “The day before, I left Sam’s chambers to go see Robb. I liked watching him nurse, seeing him eat and hearing the noises he makes. Instead of Delia, I found you sitting there, breastfeeding Robb yourself.” Shame flashed across her face, but there was no disgust in his expression, only confusion and if she wasn’t fooling herself, awe. “I was shocked, you have never carried a babe, so how could you breastfeed Robb? I went back to Sam, and he told me the truth, though I had to pull it out him, so don’t be angry with him, Sansa. You may not think it, but you are his mother, in more ways than one.”

“Stop it, Jon,” Sansa begged, wrapping her arms around herself as more tears left her watery eyes. Seeing the way he was looking at her, it was too much, it gave her too much hope, and hope was a dangerous thing to have.

“I won’t,” he declared, perching himself on the edge of her bed with Robb between them. “I have watched you with him, I’ve seen the joy you find in his antics. The way you entertain him, embrace him and center your world around him, the fact that you changed your body to be closer to him. I’ve witnessed the love you have for my son, a love that I thought…I swore you would never feel for him…”

“I didn’t want to love him,” Sansa admitted softly, her throat clenching as she remembered how she had originally felt towards the babe. “He represented the hurt and betrayal you committed; he represented Daenerys Targaryen. I wanted to hate him. Truly I did, I finally understood what my mother had felt all those years ago with you.” Jon flinched at the memories; his hands clenched tightly in his lap. Her throat was dry from the words she spoke, but she kept talking. “I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. Robb is innocence; he’s but a babe. I couldn’t bring myself to hate him…not when he’s a part of you.”

Jon looked up from his lap to gaze at her, their eyes connected and she knew he could see all the emotions she felt before and now. Eyes are the windows to one’s soul and surely, he could see right through into hers, the very soul she was baring to him now. The pain and torment she felt, the hurt and betrayal, and the love and happiness she felt for Robb…for him.

His hand lifted from his lap, breaching the gap his son had between them to lightly touch her cheek, wiping away the tears that lingered there. His thumb was rough, but gentle, like Jon.

“I never wanted to put this burden on you, Sansa. But I trusted no one to care for my son but you and you…” his hand dropped from her cheek, placing it against the top of Robb’s head, still soundly asleep. “You stepped back from me and that hurt, it hurt me to know that you couldn’t accept him…. I’m glad that things have changed though, I’m glad that I was wrong.” With that said Jon stood up, nodding his head to her as he got ready to leave. Ghost stretched as he stood, ready to follow out.

“Jon,” Sansa called out in a whisper, afraid any louder would wake Robb. He stopped but didn’t turn back around to her, his shoulders were tense as though ready for some type of verbal lashing from her. “Please stay, there’s…there is plenty of room for you.”

The implications of her statement weren’t lost on either of them. It was scandalous for them to share a bed together without being wed, just as much as him visiting her chambers so late at night, but Sansa didn’t care.

She was tired, physically and now even more so emotionally and she was sure Jon was feeling much the same. She didn’t care what anyone would say come morning, let them talk for all she could care for it. Some things were more important than the wagging of tongues.

Slowly he turned back to her, he looked unsure, clearly knowing how wrong it was for him to be there much less stay the night.

Sansa made it easier on him though, sluggishly tugging Robb towards the middle of her bed to make room and keep the babe between them. It seemed to be the right thing to do to settle his mind. Jon hesitantly got on the bed, slipping under the furs as he faced her. He touched Robb’s forehead, down his nose then lightly on his cheek before leaning over to kiss the side of his head.

Sansa laid back down, watching him as her eyes became heavier. Just as they started to gradually close she noticed a small smile on Jon’s lips. He looked peaceful now that he had his son by him, his eyes flickered to hers briefly.

“Night, Sansa.”

 

\------------------------

 

The following weeks had set a strange routine between them. Sansa would set off for bed first, going to Robb to ‘check’ on him then take the sleeping babe back to her chambers where she would change for bed. Jon would come thirty minutes later, knocking on her door and dressed for bed as well. They’d kiss Robb good-night then wish each other a good-night before using the babe as a buffer between them on her bed.

It was awkward in the beginning. A few times Jon had opted not to stay, only long enough for Sansa to fall asleep and wake in the morning to him having never slept with them at all. She knew the difference because she always woke before he did so she could watch him undisturbed as he slept.

Any lines on his face smoothed out in his sleep, the scars on his face looking less noticeable. His hair was still long, she was going to have to cut it herself if it were ever to get done at all. Sometimes she would touch his hair, feeling the curls between her fingers before touching Robb’s for comparison. They were much the same.

These quiet moments were hers to cherish, where she could have them both within arms reach, just a brush of her fingers to know they were there with her. To know that they weren’t figments of her imagination. Sansa couldn’t say how many times she still woke up imagining she was at King’s Landing instead of home, that she was still that young girl, locked away in a tower with her tormentors.

Being able to touch the two brought a sense of realism to her. It helped her ease away those terrible nightmares, push back the aches of her past and embrace of the light rays of a new day. Only her boys could do that for her.

Her boys. The thought amused her as she cuddled next to Robb as she lightly touched Jon’s hand on his son’s belly. Her heart fluttered inside her chest as she remembered his words.

_“Aye, he is my son.”_

_“But you’re his mother.”_

She never knew how much those words would mean to her ‘til he said them. The certainty in his voice, the confidence in his eyes as he told her she was Robb’s mother. Nothing could validate her more, nothing could compare to the feelings he brought forth in her. It made sharing him easier though there were still lingering fears rearing their ugly heads inside her mind. Nitpicking at her, eating away at her confidence that Jon’s words gave her.

It was in the morning though, when she was all but alone with them and silence reign that she could confront those parts of her. The fact that both of them were there with her again eased away everything that was trying to hold her back. It was an uphill battle, but one that Sansa felt confident that she’d win; eventually.

…

Arya caught them one day, having to ask her something that could not wait ‘til a more appropriate time it seemed. She was quiet when she entered the room, if Sansa hadn’t already been awake she would never have known. Arya’s eyes widen, and her mouth opened in surprise, glancing between Sansa who sat up to Jon then finally landing on Robb between them. Her eyebrows arched then knitted downward as a frown took over her surprise. Her eyes bore into her questioningly.

Slowly, she rose from the bed, moving as gracefully as she could to avoid waking Jon and the babe. She closed a robe around her then followed Arya back to her solar to not disturb them. Her sister whipped around abruptly once they were alone. “What was that?” she questioned quickly, waving her hand at the door to indicate the scene she came upon.

Sansa crossed her arms over her chest, frown tugging at her own lips. “Nothing, we were all sleeping.”

“You weren’t,” Arya stated, hands landing on her hips. She sighed, exasperated. Would her sister understand if she explained it to her? Would she even care to listen?

“Nothing inappropriate goes on. We sleep,” Sansa said sternly. Arya snorted, dropping her arms as she paced towards the window.

“I would hope so, he’s our brother.”

“Cousin,” Sansa reminded her, hissing the word between them. She turned back from the window to observe her, staring in her face as she searched for something. Sansa tried to keep her face neutral, but her sister seemed to find something there regardless.

“I wasn’t sure I believed it,” Arya started, placing her butt on the edge of the windowpane as she crossed her arms. “I thought I was seeing things…but I’m not, am I?”

Sansa shrugged, looking away from her eyes. What more could she say to her? She had thought it were obvious to her sister about how she felt towards Jon, but maybe she was giving her too much credit in that department? Or, Arya just didn’t want to see what was so plainly in front of her.

Seeing is believing they say.

“You are in love with him, aren’t you?” Arya finally asked, the question spoken so softly if it hadn’t been quiet Sansa probably wouldn’t have heard her. Her teeth clenched as her arms tighten. “Answer the question, Sansa.”

“Is it not obvious?” Sansa answered, tossing her arms out. “Go ahead then, look at me with disgust, look at me with pity. I do not care, but don’t you look at him any differently,” she warned, coming up to stand before her sister now. “You may change your perception about me, but don’t change them about Jon. He does not feel for me like I do for him.”

Arya suddenly snorted, her arms loosening before dropping to grip the edge of the windowpane. She leaned further back as she regarded Sansa with a lightness that wasn’t there before, like she was seeing her for the first time. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips then she started shaking her head. “What?”

“You don’t see it,” Arya declared only slightly surprised at this revelation.

“See what?” Sansa took the bait, stepping back. What was Arya getting at? She couldn’t possibly mean what she thought she was meaning? Arya smiled as Sansa connected the dots in her mind then immediately shook her head. “No, he does not.”

“Yes, he does.”

“Arya, stop it,” Sansa sternly begged, turning her back on her sister to walk to her desk and lean heavily against it, her hands braced on the wood. There was no way Jon felt anything towards her that she felt towards him. It was just the effect his son had on their bond, once Robb got older and became more independent from her then Jon would also distance himself from her.

It was only a matter of time.

“Just because you refuse to see, or acknowledge it doesn’t mean it’s not there,” Arya stated firmly, she apparently wasn’t going to give Sansa anything but grief.

“Arya.”

“Fine, if you refuse to see it so be it. But for once Sansa, could you for once open your eyes and take notice in the changes around you.”

Sansa didn’t turn around even after her sister had shut the door as she left. It wasn’t that she refused to see the way he sometimes looked at her, nor that she didn’t notice either. It was just that she was afraid of what it would mean, what it could lead to. Nothing truly good has ever happened for her without some type of sacrifice to be made. She took care of Robb, loving him like her own but the sacrifice she would have to make is letting him go to his real father. If Jon loved her, it was because of what she has done for his son and as familial love, nothing more.

“Sansa.”

She turned around to find Jon holding Robb to him, once the babe saw her though he started wiggling as he babbled to her. A smile took over the frown on her lips as she approached them both, taking Robb into her arms tenderly.

She cuddled him to her as tears welled up in her eyes. He would never want her, not after everything she had been through, everything that was done to her. Jon deserved better than her, so did Robb for that matter. Sansa bowed her head to rub it against the babe’s.

She wasn’t aware she was crying ‘til she heard Jon breath out her name and his arms pulled her into his chest, cradling her to him. He was warm, comforting and it eased the bubble of pain in her chest. One hand wrapped around her lower back to hold her to him while the other lightly rubbed his fingers up and down her upper back soothingly.

Jon whispered soft words to her, telling her to not cry and that everything was alright. Briefly, she wondered if he had heard her and Arya talking, fear shook her body, but his ministrations distracted her from thinking.

Sansa dropped her head down between his neck and shoulder, burying herself there as he held her and Robb. If she could stay like this forever she’d take it, if only she could burrow into Jon’s body and stay there where it was warm, safe and comforting. The one place the world could never find her, the one place she could never be hurt by the men of her past. Protected by the one man who mattered most to her.

By the man she loved.

She couldn’t be sure how long they stayed like that, it was a long time though because Robb was getting restless in her arms while being pinned to Jon. He was probably getting hungry too. Slowly, Jon released her, stepping back to gaze at her questioningly, his concern for her evident on his face.

Sansa shook her head though, she didn’t want to talk about it especially not with him when it was about him. He seemed to take her rejection of talking well enough, just giving her as much of a comforting smile as he could muster.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right Sansa?” Jon voiced in barely above a whisper. She nodded, pursing her lips together.

“I know, Jon.”

 

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Sansa found herself struggling on her embroidery, she couldn’t get her mind to settle nor could she get the right stitching to work on the small clothes. She was trying to embroider a dragon and direwolf onto one of Robb’s tunics. Jon had made it known that Robb was a Stark, through and through, but he deserved to know his birth mother and her family.

Birth mother…

He made sure to specifically say it like that in front of everything during dinner the other night. She did not miss the glances herding her way when he said it though he did not look at her afterwards. It was obvious though who was more his mother than Daenerys had been able to be; Sansa herself.

The thought warmed her belly yet chilled her spine as everyone seemed to acknowledge that she was Robb’s mother. Jon had even stated as much not too long ago, but the thought that everyone accepted it so easily unnerved her while also making her vastly happy.

Bran sat in his chair before the fire, staring off into space. He wasn’t off in a vision as she could make out his eyes. It was disturbing, the first time she came across him during one of his episodes. The white film over his eyes that were unseeing of the world currently around him scared her. Sansa had dropped the food she was delivering to him upon the sight. She couldn’t do anything but stare at him, watching and waiting.

By the time he came back to reality his food had gone cold where it landed on the stone flooring, gravy staining the stone as it sat there with her ignoring the mess. Bran didn’t say a word just arched an eyebrow at her.

“You don’t notice anything going on around you when that happens?” Sansa asked though really it was more a statement from what she witnessed. Bran nodded solemnly, smoothing out the blanket over his legs. “Bran, if you have to do…that then please have a guard at the door, I don’t like you being so vulnerable while in that state.”

Since then he took her words to heart and made sure someone was with him when he decided to venture into the past or future. More times than not he tended to do it in her company. Sansa wondered if he felt more comfortable around her when he did, or if it was because she feared for his safety and with him getting lost in his greenseering while she was around would smother her fears for him. Either way she became use to him loosing himself while they sat around the fire.

This was the closest she had ever become with her younger brother and it was not from lack of trying either. Ever since Bran had become the Three-Eyed Raven he had been harder to relate too. He would project an emotionless demeanor towards everyone, acting as though nothing affected him but that wasn’t true at all. He didn’t confine in her like she hoped he would, but he had mentioned at one point that being so impassive and detached towards the world helped him deal with the emotions he felt during his visions. More or less, Sansa had to interpret what he was telling her, but she got the gist of it, all the same.

“Something troubles you,” Bran stated aloud, drawing her attention from her frustrating embroidery task to her brother. He wasn’t looking at her, peering into the flames of fire almost thoughtfully.

“Many things trouble me,” Sansa quipped back, setting aside her work since it was only making her annoyed and agitated instead of soothing her. The day was overcast outside causing her solar to appear darker than usual. Jon was out dealing with the rebuilding of Winterfell and though usually she would join him, Sansa decided to take a break. Arya had taken up little Robb for the next few hours, also freeing up her time even more so.

“Jon,” Bran commented causing Sansa to whip her head around to see him staring at her considerately. She wanted to smack her hand to her head for being so obvious, what happened to the Sansa who could keep the best of them guessing, who outsmarted Littlefinger in his own game? She was becoming soft again.

A small voice in the back of her mind asked if that was such a bad thing.

“What about Jon?” Sansa inquired with a tone of indifference, she should have known better than to play this game with Bran. He was the king of emotionless tone of voice, not to mention he saw into the future. Winning any type of argument with him would never happen, she supposed.

“He troubles you.” The statement made her shoulders lax, she wondered if her brother was trying to be funny or tease her.

“Right now, you trouble me,” she commented back, giving just a hint of a smile. Bran stayed passive but there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes. It was getting easier to notice the little things with him; how subtle he was in expressing his emotions now. Sansa didn’t want to hope, but she did wish that Bran would eventually come back to who he used to be, wished that her little brother who loved to smile, and laugh would make a reappearance at some point in their lives, at some point in the future.

“He didn’t love her.” The words were spoken quietly but they left a haunting note in the air as they entered Sansa’s ears. Her shoulders tensed up as her hands closed into fists in her lap. Slowly she replied in a strained voice, “Of course he loved her.”

“No, he didn’t,” Bran declared firmly, his eyes bore upon her as he twisted his chair around by the wheels to face her better. Sansa didn’t want to hear this, she didn’t want to believe in something that may not be true. “You should talk to Jon,” he suddenly advised.

Quickly she grasped onto a change of topic that would force attention onto Bran than herself. “I hear Meera Reed is coming for a visit from the Neck.”

Bran said nothing for a minute or so, just watched her with his unblinking eyes. She was sure that he’d ignore the topic change, but then he spoke, “I know, I asked her to come.”

“Oh,” Sansa mumbled in surprise, that wasn’t what she expected him to say.

“We did not part in good terms…I was…” Bran frowned deeply, wrinkles forming on his forehead. “I was not myself when she left.”

“Well she’s coming, that must mean she is willing to talk things through,” Sansa said as she tried to appear optimistic for her little brother. He hid things well, very well but she could see his apprehension and disbelief of her words. He told her in not so many words that he let Meera leave before the War of Dawn with an unfeeling ‘thank you’. The thought of how things went down between the two after everything they had been through together left a bad taste in her mouth.

Clearly her brother regretted his treatment of Meera.

“I’m afraid that talking won’t change anything,” Bran admitted sadly, twisting his wheels once more to face the fire. Her heart clenched at the sight of him looking so downtrodden.

“Why don’t you just look into the future to be sure?” Sansa asked as the idea came to her, she was curious as to why he wasn’t so sure of something he could see for himself beforehand. Bran shook his head, turning to peer at her over his shoulder.

“I don’t like looking into my future anymore…some things are best left to fate…” Sansa sighed as she stood up, figuring staying here was only making her more restless than anything else. Not to mention she didn’t want the topic between them to go back to Jon.

A walk could help clear her mind before she attempted embroidering a dragon again. She walked over to her brother though, clasping a hand on his shoulder to give him a squeeze.

“She’ll forgive you…with time she will,” she reassured. Bran didn’t look towards her, keeping his sights on the fire instead. As she walked away though he spoke, “You too.”

“What?” Sansa felt confused as she reached the door, glancing back at her brother who remained staring at the fire.

“You’ll forgive yourself too, with time.”

Sansa left the room as quickly as she could, his words sucking the air from her lungs and making her simultaneously cold and hot…

 

\------------------------

 

Her walk was doing nothing to settle her mind, not after Bran’s parting words that haunted her so. That wasn’t the only thing bothering her. His words about Jon kept circling around her mind though she tried to keep them at bay.

The thought that Jon didn’t actually love Daenerys Targaryen had never came to her. It didn’t seem possible. She wasn’t stupid to think one had to be in love to partake in sex with another, but it helped. Sansa was so sure that Jon was in love with her, his Dragon Queen.

They stayed in the same chambers, they walked intimately together, and they produced a beautiful baby together. How could they not be in love? Bran had stated Jon hadn’t been in love with her, not that she wasn’t in love with him, Sansa amended as she walked the grounds of Winterfell.

Now that she was (unwillingly) thinking about it, Sansa remembered coming across them one night. She was feeling restless, sleep evaded her at every turn, so she thought a stroll through the castle would help relieve her of the restlessness. It was during her walk that she came across them.

She hadn’t realized she was coming near Jon’s chambers till then.

They were talking softly, his words lost in the whispers between them. Sansa stopped short and peered around the corner to see them there. Daenerys was leaning against the wall by the door, speaking with a smile on her lips and her gaze directed on Jon. She looked so very much in love, so very happy.

Her heart felt crushed seeing that expression on the Dragon Queen’s face. Sansa bit her bottom lip as she watched them, the thought that she was spying never crossed her mind. She envied the lightness in the other woman’s eyes, the pure bliss she felt while being in his presence. She had known that once, before the Dragon Queen and her entourage came to Winterfell to fight against the Night King.

Jon had his back towards her, so she couldn’t make out his features, to see if he had much the same expression on his face that she did. He did reach up to touch Daenerys hair, brushing it back from her face to tuck behind her ear. The gesture brought a blush to her skin while it brought anxiety to Sansa’s stomach.

She still couldn’t make out their words though that didn’t matter much, everything was in the context between them. This was especially true when Jon leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

Sansa felt like her heart broke upon witnessing the kiss. She whipped back around to lean heavily against the stone wall, tears gathering in her eyes as she replayed the kiss in her mind. It was wrong of her to be so upset though, they were siblings, kin. It wasn’t right of her to want him as a lover would. To want him like Daenerys Targaryen had him.

If memory served her right then she had returned to her chambers to try and sleep, instead she tossed and turned and cried into her pillow for the rest of that night. Sansa shook her head to will away the memory. This was also before Jon’s true parentage was revealed to him, but did that really make a difference?

Even if his love waned some after learning his relation towards the Dragon Queen, that did not change the fact that he loved her; truly.

Did it?

Sansa frowned. Damn Bran and his meddling. Jon Snow-Jon Targaryen (as his Dragon Queen had legitimized him as) was in love with Daenerys Targaryen, Stormborn and her many titles thereafter. To think he had otherwise was foolish and wishful thinking at best. And she seriously needed to stop this torment she put herself through.

No amount of thinking about the past could change her future. Jon did not need her, he did not love her like he had his Dragon Queen and he did not want her!

Then why wouldn’t this thought process leave her be?

Abruptly Sansa whipped around, narrowly avoiding running into Gendry Waters, their new blacksmith with his arms full of scrape metal. She apologized as she dodged him, wincing when she heard the crash of metal hitting the ground. She would have to apologize again later.

She was on a mission.

Heedless as it was to continue to agonize over her thoughts, she couldn’t help but truly wonder and the only way she would get the answers to appease her anxiety was to get them from the horse’s mouth, or in this case, Jon’s mouth. Sansa moved up the steps quickly, her heels clicking loudly against the stone as she moved. She hadn’t seen hid or tail of Jon outside, so the only logical place was that he had went to his chambers.

The same chambers he had shared with Daenerys.

If not there, then she was going on a wild goose chase it seemed because she needed to know now!

The thought to knock hadn’t entered her mind as she twisted the door handle and entered Jon’s chambers, unannounced. Sansa blinked wildly as she took in Jon standing by a basin of water, his upper body unclothed as he was washing off the sweat from his body. Jon dropped the clothe to the ground, startled by her entrance as she took in his naked upper half.

Sansa had never seen the scars Jon had spoken of before. He seemed quite reluctant to show her the scars he received upon dying from his Night’s Watch brothers. She didn’t blame him for it, the thought of what was done to him still made her angry on his behalf. Hearing and knowing about the scars was way more different than actually seeing them with her eyes though.

They were still dark looking, jagged yet smooth around the edges and still bulging up from the skin. He had four of them, they were quite nasty healed wounds. It didn’t take a genius to see what damage those stabs did to his body, how he had lost his life. Sansa felt speechless as she took in his scarred chest.

The urge to walk over and kiss each one came over her though she did not act upon it.

Jon moved swiftly, grabbing a tunic to tug over his body quickly and hide the evidence of him returning from his death. Sansa blinked rapidly to come back to the present, back to why she had appeared so suddenly and unannounced.

“Did you love her?” Sansa asked abruptly, watching as Jon turned back to her now that he was clothed. His face was flushed, and his eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“Sansa, what is this all about?” Jon questioned instead, still mildly confused and flustered by her entrance. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

“Answer my question.” His eyebrows knitted downward as a frown came to his lips. He seemed even less inclined to answer, yet she didn’t care, she needed to know!

“What does that have to do with anything, Sansa?” Jon inquired tiredly, his shoulders sagging as he observed her for a moment then reached down to pick up the wet clothe. Sansa huffed breathlessly, waiting to catch his gaze with hers.

“Please Jon, just answer the question,” Sansa finally pleaded with him, desperately. She needed him to answer it, she needed him to tell her so these burning questions would finally leave her alone.

So, she could finally be at some type of peace.

“Why?” Jon questioned again, flinging the wet clothe into the basin in aggravation. “So, you can feel you have gotten one up on her? What relevance does this have now?”

Sansa shook her head, confused. One up on her? “Because I need to know!” she asserted loudly, stepping forward towards him. Jon’s face became stormy, his eyes darker than normal, his temper flaring.

“You want to know? Fine! I cared about her, truly, but I was not in love with her!” he declared just as loudly, his shoulders tense as his jaw was clenched tightly shut. After a moment of silence between them he added in a softer tone, “I wanted to be, but I couldn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you?” Sansa asked more quietly, her conviction losing its thunder now that she had her first answer.

She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he didn’t love Daenerys. They seemed like they were in love, both of them. It was like from one of her many stories or songs she loved in her childhood, a King and Queen, meeting and falling in love. But songs are not what they seemed, and stories were greatly embellished upon every time they were told and passed down throughout the years. Pretty little lies that gave hope to the hopeless, too bad she had abandoned hope so long ago.

She may not have known the Dragon Queen all that well, but she thought she knew Jon pretty well. They had grown so close over the short time that they had before Daenerys came to Winterfell, Sansa was sure she knew him like the back of her hand. He was just a private person, he wasn’t one to show public displays of affection.

Or was she just bringing up excuses? Trying not to hope because she had abandoned it, trying not to believe she ever had a chance…

“Why couldn’t you continue to love Joffrey? Why didn’t you fall in love with Ramsey?” Jon shot back.

“They were monsters pretending to be something they were not, they did not deserve my love, nor anyone else’s for that matter,” Sansa said darkly, her jaw locking as she gave Jon a hard stare. She didn’t understand why he brought that up, what did those monsters have to do with him not loving Daenerys? She wasn’t as great as she liked to come across, that Sansa knew, but she wasn’t a monster like they were.

Right?

“Daenerys,” Jon started thickly, walking over to sit down as though there were a heavy weight upon his shoulders, “wanted to be a good person, but she was drawn to darker impulses. The last good thing she did was give me Robb.” The implications of his words and the tone of his voice told her more than what he actually said.

It wasn’t hard to see that Daenerys had a hard time walking the middle ground between two extremes, it wasn’t hard to see that she tended to lean to closely towards madness. It was the way she spoke of herself, the way she looked down her nose at others, and the way she thought her experiences were her own and no other could compare. Sansa could never understand Daenerys’ hubris nature, how she could view herself as though she were a goddess among men.

That didn’t mean she was a total monster either. Misguided, of course, but a monster…

“We all did bad things to get where we are now.” Her words were mumbled softly as her thoughts brought up the things that lurked in her own closet. Jon scoffed at her, leaning back against his chair as he jutted his chin out.

“What bad thing did you ever do?” he inquired. “Fall for the illusion of a good prince? You’ve done nothing truly bad.”

“I got father killed…” Sansa bit her lip as the words left her, the one thing that tore at her heart since the day he lost his life. The one bad thing she did that she could never come back from…

“What?” Jon sat up straight, giving her a quizzical expression.

“I did, I told Cersei…” she continued as her eyes welled up in tears. “I went to her and told her how Father wanted to leave, that he was taking us back to Winterfell…it was all me.” Her shoulders started to shake as she remembered that fateful day, remembered the look upon Cersei’s face as she listened to Sansa spill her guts about her father. She didn’t know what would happen to him, she had no idea what would happen to her, all she wanted was Joffrey and her life to be a song.

Instead her life became a nightmare…

“Sansa, that wasn’t your fault.” Jon stood up from his chair, approaching her slowly as more tears blurred her eyes.

“Yes, it was! I wanted to marry that monster because I thought I was in love and it costed Father his life!” she exploded, yelling out her shame and misdeeds to him.

“You were a child who did not know any better!” Jon yelled back, reaching out to grasp her shoulders, but she stepped back from him, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You weren’t there, Jon! I did it, I am to blame!” Her heart ached as everything came back to her, she wasn’t strong, she was never going to truly change, and she would only be stuck in her past. Stuck, unmoving while everyone got better, and she only got worse.

Sansa closed her arms around her shaking body as tears left wet trails down her cheeks. In her blurry sight she could see Jon looking at her with concern, watching her as she broke down from her awful decisions, if it wasn’t telling Cersei then it was falling for Joffrey, and it wasn’t falling for Joffrey then it was listening to Littlefinger who sold her to the Boltons, and so on and so forth.

Would she always be nothing but a pawn in everyone’s game? Would she never become better, become her own person? Sansa thought she was, thought Robb could be her redemption, but maybe even his sweet soul couldn’t save her.

“You can’t possibly believe that,” Jon said solemnly, his long Northern face looking longer as he gazed at her sadly.

“It’s all my fault! It is! I told Cersei, I betrayed father’s trust, I did it! Me!” Sansa screamed, gesturing wildly with her arms as she tried to get him to see, to realize how much she messed up. Jon wasn’t stupid, not like she was, he had to see that she did it! She got father killed! She did.

Jon reached out again, this time closing his hands around her shoulders to keep her still, to keep her steady as he gazed into her eyes. “You are not the catalyst that started the journey we went through! You were only a child, Sansa, you can’t believe this is your fault. Everything we went through happened for the sake of what would happen, it wasn’t pre-destine nor was it any of fault of one person! We all make mistakes, be it big or small.” His fingers loosen on her shoulders enough to rub up and down her arms as he tried to get her to understand.

“Sometimes bad things happen to good people,” he started with a croak in his voice, “and sometimes good things happen to bad people. Life is not fair, and we cannot change what we’ve done, we can only do better by looking forward, by moving forward.”

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment as she let his words wash over her. She wanted to fight him on it, wanted to tell him he knew nothing if he believed her innocent. His words though, they eased the pain inside her chest, she wasn’t sure if it was because his words rang true, or it if was because it was from Jon’s mouth that said them. Her mind brought up a moment not so long ago with Arya, lying on the floor with baby Robb between them.

“It’s all a balance,” she mumbled as her eyes opened. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he nodded his agreement.

“Aye, it is all but balancing our lives. You did nothing that wouldn’t have happened, father…Lord Stark put his faith and trust in the wrong people and it costed him his life, and it probably would have costed yours had he not went along with being taken as a traitor.” She started shaking her head again, he just didn’t understand!

“But I told Cersei,” Sansa reiterated, pulling back from his caressing hands to put some space between them. Jon dropped his hands as he regarded her in disbelief.

“Sansa, you can’t keep going on like this. You must forgive yourself for your mistakes, or you will never move on, you will never be happy,” he stated exasperatedly. Sansa felt a jolt go through her.

Bran’s words echoed in her mind upon hearing Jon’s words, _“You’ll forgive yourself too, with time.”_ But would she? Could she forgive herself? She had spent so much time burying her feelings, her emotions to survive. So much time wasted on forcing herself to forget or alter her memories, so she wouldn’t have to face them in the light of day. Sansa wasn’t sure she could ever forgive herself, she wasn’t sure she had it in her.

She took a deep breath then slowly exhaled it, trying to rid herself of the confusing feelings that seemed to clog her veins then abruptly she turned around, heading to the door.

“Where are you going?” Jon questioned.

“I need time to think,” Sansa announced as she wiped the drying tear paths on her cheeks.

“But where?” he continued to ask, she bit her lip before looking over her shoulder at him.

“Where father went when he needed to think.”

With that said she left his room, moving with a purpose. She dodged any questions directed to her in passing as she walked, ignoring the looks of concern anyone had when they saw her red, wet eyes, or her blotchy face. She needed to be alone, she needed to rest.

The snow crunched underneath her heels, freshly fallen snow covered any evidence of others coming here. Only her footprints remained; alone. Sansa sat upon the stump her father use to seat himself at, looking around her to take in the clean, icy air and white covered surroundings. It was quiet, desolate, peaceful.

She closed her eyes and breathed the air deeply then allowed the thoughts that haunted her to release…

…….

Her eyes opened when the sound of snow crunching under feet approached her. She blinked a few times to realize the afternoon sun had slowly gone down to evening, the surrounding woods darken considerably, and it had gotten colder since she first arrived. Sansa figured she had to have been sitting there for a least a few hours now.

She looked up to take in Jon, standing before her. His cloak she made covering his shoulders and shielding his body from the cold air and wind around them.

“How are you?” Jon asked gently.

“Cold,” Sansa replied with a light smile. He returned it with a nod, glancing around them to take in the environment. “Aye, it is cold out,” he commented with that same gentleness in his voice.

It became silent between them, his eyes on her, her eyes glancing between him and the snow-covered ground. She knew he was hoping she would speak more, but she wasn’t sure where to start, wasn’t sure she wanted him to hear it all.

“Have you talked to anyone? Truly talked to anyone about what you have been through?” Jon eventually asked after the silence between them became too much.

Sansa shook her head with a sigh, “No one would understand.”

“Sometimes you don’t need someone to understand, you just need someone to listen.” He offered in reply, stepping forward some more.

Sansa said nothing. There was so much on her mind, so much that she had not thought about till her time sitting here, by the hearttree. So much left unsaid that it was hard to put words to them. Jon was so observant though, he knew she was having a hard time speaking, he knew it wouldn’t be easy. Sometimes she appreciated that in him, other times it scared her how shrewd he could be.

How shrewd she wished she had been years ago.

“You asked me once if it would be so terrible to listen to you, to take your advice. Now I ask you, would it be so terrible for you to let someone in. It doesn’t have to be me, it could be Bran, Arya, Brienne, Davos, hell even Tormund,” Jon said jokingly. Sansa couldn’t smother the way her lips turned up in a slight smile.

“I think if Tormund saw me weeping my heart out to him he would ran scared to beyond where the wall used to be,” she said with a bigger smile, suppressing her laughter at the thought.

Jon chuckled. “Aye, then forget I offered him.” He then stared at her concernly, his sad eyes expressing to her how much he cared about her wellbeing. Her heart fluttered at the sight. “Sansa, you can’t keep it all in forever.”

“I know…it’s just so hard to let it out now.” After a moment Sansa scooted over on the log, leaving enough space for her to pat as she looked up to Jon, indicating for him to sit. He looked relieved at the gesture, coming over to sit beside her where his shoulder and thigh pressed against her own. His warmth seeped through his cloak, reminding her of how cold she currently was. Jon seemed to notice and after a bit of shifting on his part his arm came around her shoulders along with his cloak to envelop her in the heat that radiated off his body.

 

She didn’t talk at first, her mouth firmly shut into a line as her thoughts swirled around her mind. Jon said nothing as well, keeping quiet and letting her figure out how to start. She let out a breath then the words came like a dam breaking under pressure, flowing out of her so easily and there was no stopping it either. Her voice would hitch in breathlessness at some points then deepen in sorrow at others as she spoke and he said not one word aside from squeezing her shoulder reassuringly when certain words would get lodged in her throat from the lump that formed there.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, sometimes her words were practically unintelligible but she kept talking. She spoke of her fears during her imprisonment at King’s Landing, she spoke of her wishes and dreams when she came to the Vale and she spoke of disgust and torture when Littlefinger and Ramsay came along in her tale. Her chest hurt as she seemingly relived everything she kept held tight, but the more she let out her pain and sorrow, the more relief she felt. She was emptying everything she held within, leaving nothing behind but it felt better than she could have possibly hoped for.

Sansa forgot that her skin may be steel, but eventually if steel is not taken care of properly then it would chip, crack, break and shatter. She was on the verge of shattering and now…now she could mend, heal and breath properly again. It was like a breath of fresh air as she finished speaking, like the pull of her past on her was gone, finally letting her go.

As Jon pulled her into his arms, whispering words of thanks for allowing him to listen and be there for her she realized with a light heart that she finally forgave herself for her mistakes.

I forgive me, Sansa thought happily, I forgive me…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was everything y'all expected for part 2! I am very happy with the development! I wanted to make sure things were addressed for Sansa before anything developed between her and Jon officially. First part was about her realizing she was strong for accepting Robb though it pained her. Part 2 is about her forgiving herself for past mistakes of her youth and gaining that growth of character she thought she didn't have. So the final part will deal with the last prayer she had for herself. Anywho thank y'all so much for reading and reviewing thus far!
> 
> Part 3 might be a little longer, only because it's not completely done like the first two parts, but I am hoping to have it posted soonish!


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had this mostly done, really it was the ending portion that was getting to me because there is still so much more to be said for these two in the story and for Sansa to truly become her best and better self. That being said, there will be a fourth part. I'm sure that will make tons of you happy! I haven't started on that last part as of yet, so it will be some time before I get it posted.
> 
> My plan is to finish out the last installment for 'She-Wolf', and that will be the last of doing challenges for a bit since I have so many ideas for other stories for Jonsa! Next I will finish up 'My Cousin Sansa' which the chapter is half way finished and finally I should have the final chapter for this story done as well. From there I will work on the other things in my agenda! 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy this part, it has to be one of my favorite parts because of the progression of the story. Please enjoy!! ^_~

 

 

 

Something had shifted between them since that night. Sansa noticed it more and more as the days went by. Jon had always been considerate of her, always looking out for her best interests and trying his best to protect her, even when she didn’t want him too. Ever since that night she had felt lighter inside, allowing him to hear the atrocities that she went through had brought them even closer than before.

Sansa found his eyes on her being more often, just watching her, appraising her with his soft gaze and even softer smile. She noticed he smiled more too. It was like a weight had been lifted off him as well. She had caught him more times than not smiling broadly and laughing loudly than when he first arrived back home. Robb seemed to pick up on his change too, going to Jon more and more to be played with and to cuddle. She couldn’t get upset over it because watching them interact did something for her too.

She cradled her hand in her chin as she watched the two playing. Jon was on his back, holding Robb’s small hands in his while the babe was laid on his knees where he lifted them up to bounce him. The solar was filled with little baby laughter as Jon chuckled at his son’s excitement. She could hardly pay attention to her reading as she listened to the squeals and gasping laughter.

A flutter inside her heart made her gasp. Watching them made her so happy but watching Jon in particular with his son did other things for her. Her thighs clamped together as a tingle raced through her body. Sansa had never really felt physical desire, not after the things she had been through. She never allowed herself to get that comfortable with someone to feel that way.

Except for Jon.

It was like her loins were screaming for attention as she watched them, screaming for his attention. Sansa didn’t know what it was about watching her cousin play with his son, but it made her want him more, made her want something she never thought she’d ever willingly want. It was a strange development for her, one she hadn’t a clue how to handle.

So, she didn’t.

Jon lifted his legs up higher and higher, chuckling at the way his son’s legs kicked out as he shouted his excitement of the game they were playing. Suddenly he was sliding forward over Jon’s knees only to be caught easily by his father. He lifted Robb well up above him, making the babe hover in the air as though he were flying like a bird. Sansa bit the inside of her mouth, eyes fixated on the two.

“Those reports aren’t going to get done if you keep watching us,” Jon said offhand, glancing at her with a smile on his full lips. Had his lips always been so full? She forcefully lifted her gaze back to her work, heat highlighting her cheeks.

“You two are rather distracting,” she commented with a wave of her hand, trying to read the words on the parchment paper, but it mind as well be written in high Valyrian. She just couldn’t focus.

“Should we leave?” Jon inquired, sitting up with Robb in his arms.

“No!” Sansa immediately said, pursing her lips together at how loud and desperate she came off. He only smiled in response. “My mind is unfocused right now.”

“How about we go on a walk? Fresh air to clear the mind,” he offered as he stood up. Sansa sighed deeply, knowing she should just finish her work. Yet the offer was too tempting.

Robb reached for her instantly as she approached the two, her arms encircled the babe as he clung to her neck while looking back at his father. Sansa smiled at him then turned to Jon to see his eyes watching them carefully, his eyes were darker than normal. Another flutter erupted, this time in her gut.

She led the way outside, Jon following closely behind with a hand gently placed on her back, edging close to the small of her back. His hand burned through her dress, heating her skin as they walked. It was distracting. Actually, everything Jon did lately was distracting, playing with his son, talking to his bannermen.

Even eating in the Great Hall was distracting for her. Watching him take large bites of food, chewing it with a closed mouth, the way his teeth scraped the metal fork. Sansa shuddered as they walked out into the courtyard. What was wrong with her?

“Cold?” Jon asked, leaning into her ear while rubbing his hand up and down her back. She could barely withhold another shiver at his touch, only managing to shake her head ‘no’. Glancing back at him she saw a twinkle in his eyes like he knew his gestures distracted her and kept her focus completely and utterly on him.

Sansa turned her focus onto Robb instead, trying to ignore the looks they received as they walked. None were disgusted or bad, but she could see the question in their eyes and the praise of seeing them together. Their King in the North and Lady of Winterfell. It made Sansa wish for something she shouldn’t, made her want something she shouldn’t.

“Wait here, I need to speak with Tormund for a moment.” Sansa gasped as his hand drifted from her back to around her waist to leave a light squeeze before he was leaving them to talk with the tall red head.

He’d never touched her like that before.

Robb wiggled in her arms, wanting to be let down. She allowed the babe to place his feet on the dirt, holding his hands within hers as he tried walking. Time was moving too fast, before she knew it he’d be walking around then running amuck like her brothers had done years ago. His legs wobbled dangerously, encouraging the babe to squeeze her fingers in a death grip, but he seemed intent to walk before he was ready.

Sansa humored him, allowing him to walk a step or two, helping Robb keep his balance as they moved. Her sweet babe, she thought lovingly, smiling down at him as he struggled but persevered. He was every bit his father in that respect, never letting something hold him back and stubborn as a mule, she mused.

“He’s getting big.” Sansa looked up from her bent over position to see Brienne, her blue eyes watching the little babe.

“Too big and too quickly,” she commented wistfully, catching Robb as he stumbled then correcting his feet, so he could try continuing to walk.

“He’s small for his age though,” Brienne observed. Sansa nodded, sending a concerned glance at Robb.

“He is, but hopefully he will catch up and grow stronger. Maester Tarly says he is doing well, better than expected.” The news lifted any fears from her heart. Robb didn’t particularly like being poked and probed for his check up, but it provided good news and hopes for the future.

“Because he has you.” Sansa looked back up to see the tall Lady Knight smiling at the both of them. She knew Brienne hadn’t known how to take the new development of her taking care of Robb once they were back from the South.

It wasn’t that the Lady Knight didn’t like the babe, or anything of the sort, just that she knew how hurt Sansa was during the whole ordeal and then left a child of another woman. It was eerie how similar her situation had become with her mothers, but Sansa wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to Robb like it did for Jon. So, to hear that Robb was doing so well because of her, well it warmed her heart more and to know that she made the right decision that night so long ago.

“Thank you,” Sansa mumbled as she lifted Robb up from the ground, placing him back on her hip. Brienne lightly mused his hair then tapped his button nose before walking away.

Tormund called out to the Lady Knight, she ignored him, but that didn’t stop him from following her anyway. Sansa smothered laughter, watching the scene before her. Poor Brienne, she did not mind the rough wildling, but she did not want him the way he did her.

“Tormund is so sure that Lady Brienne is playing hard to get, he thinks he can wear her down eventually,” Jon stated as he came back to stand beside her. Sansa snorted loudly, smacking a hand to her mouth at the noise. She glanced back at Jon to see him smiling at her as her embarrassment made her red in the face.

“I suppose he’ll be chasing after her for a very long time then.” Jon nodded in agreement, sliding his arm around her shoulders lightly. Sansa cuddle Robb closer to her chest as she suppressed the tremble in her body from his touch, the way his fingers skimmed along her right shoulder to wrap around her left made more flutters in her tummy take flight.

There was a pleasant silence between them as they walked, no words needed to be said to fill the silence. It was comfortable. Sansa breathed deeply, allowing the fresh air to fill her lungs. They made their way to the godswood, coming to the weirwood to spend a few minutes in peace. Robb crawled in the slowly greening grass. Ghost appeared from deeper in the woods, sitting by little Robb with ever watchful red eyes.

It was peaceful.

Sansa found it curious how much peace she felt now. How easy it was to breathe without that heavy feeling baring down on her heart, suffocating her slowly. Nothing was holding her back it seemed, nothing kept her from being herself anymore. That was probably the most shocking of all, how much Sansa hadn’t truly been herself for so long. She hadn’t thought she could be the same again, to bring back herself that she had all but given up on. Yet releasing everything, flushing it from her system had revealed the Sansa Stark of old and it was so freeing.

Freedom.

The one thing she chased after most of her life since heading South, the one thing she thought time and time again that she had only for it to be yanked from her grasp. Even when she and Jon gained back their home, Winterfell, she wasn’t entirely free. Not from the demons that haunted her dreams. She had never truly been free ‘til now. Nothing could hold her back anymore except maybe herself.

“What are you thinking?” Jon asked, seating himself beside her on that same log. Once more their thighs and arms were pressed tenderly together.

“About the last time we were here, a fortnight ago,” Sansa answered softly, sweeping her hands down her skirts absentmindedly.

“All good thoughts I hope.” She glanced at him and he smiled though there was concern in his eyes. She nodded to alleviate his worry.

“Yes, nothing but good thoughts to be had,” she assured him, licking her lips then bumping his shoulder with her own. Jon smiled broader and repeated the gesture back.

“Good, good.”

Sansa observed Jon quietly for a moment, he seemed off. Maybe she wasn’t the only one unfocused lately? His fingers drummed a beat on his thigh while he watched his son lean against Ghost, forcing the direwolf to help him stand though it didn’t do much to stop the babe from plopping onto his bottom.

“You’re staring,” Jon stated, his eyes averted towards his feet.

“I am.”

“Why?” he questioned so quietly, eyes still refusing to connect with hers.

“Why not? You are nice to look at,” Sansa said with an impish smile on her face. Her words finally drew his attention onto her, his eyes widen at her bold statement.

“There are much better things to look at.”

“Maybe. But then that’s a matter of perspective, don’t you think?” Jon looked at a loss for words, opening his mouth then closing it at least twice, gaping like a fish.

“Aye,” he finally mumbled, smiling sheepishly as his cheeks redden. Sansa couldn’t help her gaze on him, couldn’t help the feelings stirring in her belly while her eyes took in his facial features.

“I don’t know if I ever said this to you, Jon, but you are very handsome.” Her words made more red stain his cheeks as he dunked his head in embarrassment. She bit her lip, finding his reaction pleasing.

“No, I don’t think you ever have, but thank you, my Lady,” Jon said deeply, his voice almost husky. When he caught her gaze again there was such vulnerability there, like her words truly meant something to him.

Without thinking, she reached up to place her palm against his cheek. His beard scratched at her skin as she cupped the side of his head then tugged him forward where she pressed her lips on his forehead, reminiscent of that day on the battlements after they had won Winterfell back. He sucked in air tightly as she kept her lips pressed into his skin, letting her love sink into his being. Upon pulling back they smiled at each other, soft and sweet.

Sansa’s eyes drifted to his full lips like earlier, transfixed on them as she wondered what it would feel like to pull them towards her lips. How would Jon Snow kiss? The thought made her breath hitch then she was pulling back, her face flushing heatedly. She couldn’t stand up fast enough, trying to put some space between them.

“I should get back to work, watch over Robb for me,” Sansa stated quickly, dropping down to press a similar kiss to Robb’s forehead before giving Jon a wave goodbye then rushing off from the godswood.

The darkening of his eyes after her kiss distracted her for the rest of that day…

 

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It was like an intricate dance, or swordplay they had going on. Jon would parry right, and Sansa would spin to her left. Jon would twist to his left and Sansa would take a step then swing to her right. There were times she felt dizzy from her interactions with Jon, times where she felt like prey at one moment then predator at another.

This strange circling dance they did was both exhilarating and exhausting; beautiful and nerve-racking.

Sansa didn’t know what to do about the change between them. There were so many times she was left breathless from the polite, lingering touches Jon laid upon her, or even the heated gazes he drew on her being from afar. It was like a floodgate was opened between them, nothing seemed hidden from the other. As exciting and heartwarming as it was, it frightened her how strongly she was feeling towards Jon.

How insecurity reared its ugly head every so often to knock her off her feet. He never looked at another lady as he did her, never interacted with another lady as he did her, and never touched another lady with such familiarity and love as he did her. Sansa wanted to believe he cared for her like she did for him, but her insecurity pushed back.

It was an uphill battle only she could fight alone.

The back and forth of her self-doubt made her angry, made her so aggravated with herself. Why couldn’t she just take Jon’s love at face-value? Why couldn’t she just believe in his feelings for her that everyone else seemed to see? There was no mistaken the way he regarded her, no mistaken that heat in his every gaze and gesture.

Jon wanted her as a man wanted a woman and Sansa wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information…

 

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“Robb’s first name day is coming up,” Jon said conversationally, gesturing towards the little babe sitting on the rug with a toy stuffed into his mouth. He was nearing a year now, time was flying too fast for her tastes. At this stage of his life everything went into his mouth, just the other day Arya had to snatch a dagger of hers that she left on a low table that Robb was tugging towards him, thank goodness it was the handle end he was grabbing but the babe had all intentions of sticking it into his mouth.

Robb was developing faster than before, he started crawling quicker and reached further, showing off his intelligence. Luckily Ghost took more interest in him once he was more mobile, picking the babe up by the scruff of his shirt to redirect him when he was getting too far in his crawling adventures. He was also using the tables and chairs to stay standing, but he couldn’t quite stay that way for long, usually wobbling as he stood then dropping down to his butt with a giggle. Though Sansa had once feared that both Jon and Robb would distance themselves from her it had not happened. If nothing else both seemingly came to her more now than ever. There wasn’t a night she slept alone anymore with Robb always sleeping with her and Jon following not too far after.

The babe was still a buffer between them, but that didn’t change how intimate the whole thing was especially with the new development between them. It also didn’t stop people from watching them with scrutiny either. Tormund would just arch his eyebrows at Jon, make some inappropriate joke and move on. Davos said nothing that Sansa knew of, seeming to mind his own business much like Brienne. If any of their bannerman had disagreements about the situation they kept their mouths shut as well. Sansa noticed that no one really seemed to mind.

It helped to keep her self-doubt at bay, to keep her anxiety from running amuck. Made embracing the changes easier for her. Accepting the knowing looks her sister sent her way, or the acknowledgement Bran had towards them. They were still doing this strange dance, but it was getting easier to participate, easier to let her walls drop.

“Sit still, Jon,” Sansa instructed lightly as she stood behind him with a pair of scissors. Finally, she was able to wrestle the man into sitting still enough for a haircut. He wouldn’t let anyone cut it but her. Only weeks earlier she had cut Robb’s hair, shaping it down short and almost reminiscent of her older brother, Robb’s namesake.

“I’m not moving, Sansa,” Jon bit out, crossing his arms as he sat still. She rolled her eyes as she started chopping his locks and curls away. She was amazed at how long it had gotten, she didn’t think he’d ever let his hair get this long but then there were more important things to do and think about than his hair.

“What do you suppose should be done for his first name day?” Sansa asked as she worked, trying to will away the tingles that traveled down her fingers and arms to the bubbling in her stomach.

“Honestly, something small,” Jon commented, shrugging shoulders while trying to remain still.

“Nothing big and loud then,” she laughingly stated, cutting his hair up to just above his shoulders, angling it just like she remembered from their childhood.

“It is only his first, he won’t remember much,” he explained, drawing both of their attention towards the babe. He sat still just sticking his toy into his mouth repeatedly, a smile came to his lips when he noticed they were both watching him. Sansa turned back to Jon, coming around to stand in front of him to check how his hair was looking. He was smiling at his son before directing his eyes up to her.

“We should have cake though, he’s enjoying some solid food now that his teeth are coming in.” Sansa stuck the scissors in her mouth as she shook her hands through his hair to shake it out and see how it was looking. She replaced the scissors to cut a few strands to shape it more around his face. She could see it in her mind’s eye how Jon had looked growing up, she was trying her best to mimic the look now.

“Cake sounds good,” Jon replied, his tone quiet and his eyes staring up at her as she leaned over him. A strand of hair fell over his eyes so she pushed it aside, skimming her fingers through his hair. Her hand came back and his suddenly clasped upon it, placing her hand to cradle the side of his cheek as he gazed up at her.

Sansa sucked in air tightly through her mouth, her eyes connected with his. The heat in his eyes startled her more than she supposed it should have. Jon and his lingering touches, always finding reasons to touch her. Be it a hand on the small of her back as he led her around while they talked, a brushing of fingers at her elbow when they ate, and when they slept she could feel his hands caressing loose strands of hair from her face when he thought her asleep.

Jon lightly brushed his thumb up and down the back of her hand as he kept it there upon his cheek. Sansa pursed her lips around the scissors as she stared at him, time seeming to slow around them. She only jumped a little when she felt his other hand land on her hip, closing his fingers around the material of her dress and the muscled skin of her hip underneath. He tugged sluggishly, bringing her to come between his legs and closer to him. She dropped the scissors in his lap as she grabbed his shoulder to steady herself.

Slowly Jon trailed his fingers from her hand down her wrist then up her forearm pass her elbow, up over her shoulder then gently grasping around the nape of her neck to force her to lean further down towards him. Sansa dug her fingers into his shoulder, but she couldn’t do anything to stop his strong hands, nor did she want to stop them. Her stomach felt pitted and filled up with heat that spread throughout her body, igniting her like wildfire. She breathed out softly as she neared his face, the action causing a hitch in his breathing. His eyes kept going back and forth from her eyes to her lips.

There was a hair breadth between them where time seemed irrelevant, staring heatedly into each other’s eyes, waiting for the next indication to move, looking for acceptance; looking for love.

Sansa made the last push, keeping her hand braced on his shoulder while sliding her other hand from his cheek up into his now shorter hair as her lips slid tantalizingly slow upon his. She captured his bottom lip between her own and sucked, Jon groaned. His hand massaged the back of her neck while his other gripped even tighter to her hip to hold her in place so she could not escape. She had no intentions of escaping though. Sansa pushed harder against his lips, gasping at the feel of his tongue running along them before it was running along her own.

He kissed like he fought; decisively, knowing where he wanted to press his tongue against her tongue, where he wanted to slide it against her own to bring forth pleasure for the both of them. She had been forced to kiss like this by Ramsey, she hated the taste of his mouth upon hers, hated the feel of his fleshy tongue touching what was not his. With Jon it was anything but disgusting, it only brought up nervousness and desire welling up inside her being. Sansa moved her mouth, trying to draw out the kiss and keep the amazing feelings from leaving her.

Jon battled her tongue into submission though it wouldn’t take much then drew away from her questing lips to kiss the corner of her mouth then at the angle of her jaw, under her jaw, and finally pressing tender, loving kisses to her neck where he attached his lips to suck marks there. Sansa whimpered at the feeling of his mouth suckling against the column of her neck, the only types of marks she would willingly accept upon her body.

The moment was broken when she felt tugging on her skirts. Sansa reluctantly pulled back from Jon causing him to slightly whine and try pulling her back to him. “Jon,” she breathed out, gripping tightly into his hair to bring him back to reality, the cloudiness in his eyes alleviating.

She smiled at him then looked down behind her to see Robb struggling to stand by tugging on her skirts for help. He whined in aggravation, mumbling some choice words that were unintelligible to their ears as he tried to stand up and maintain balance.

“Hello little one,” Sansa said as she released Jon completely, moving to bend down to tug Robb’s fingers from her skirts and help him stand better. It was a bit of a fight to get him to let go of her dress, but once his tiny fingers had a hold of hers he stood better, smiling almost triumphantly.

“He’ll be walking in no time,” Jon remarked, watching his son with prideful eyes. Sansa felt her face heat up at how natural this all seemed to be, kissing Jon then interacting with Robb who wanted their attention on him; clearly. Jon glanced up to her and smiled tenderly, reaching up to brush some hair behind her ear.

“We better be careful then,” Sansa started, turning to smile down lovingly at Robb. “Bran thinks he’ll be a climber like he was.”

“Lord, let us hope not,” Jon groaned. She laughed lightly, helping Robb walk a little though he wasn’t quite sure of his steps yet. After a moment of quiet, Jon murmured, “I think I know what kind of cake we should serve.”

Sansa felt a thump rattle her body, her breath hitched a little and she could not bring her eyes to Jon’s. “And what type should that be?” she asked though she was pretty sure of what exact type of cake he would suggest. She could see the way his lips lifted into a big ole smile in the corner of her eyes, his eyes watching her carefully.

“Lemon cake.”

 

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Sansa laughed joyously, watching as Robb grabbed handfuls of lemon cake then proceeded to stuff as much of the yellow, spongy cake into his mouth as he could. It resulted in getting lemon cake everywhere, all over his face, in his hair and on his clothes as well. He was quite the sight. Jon chuckled beside him, wiping some cake from the babe’s face to help put into his son’s mouth. Arya put another small lemon cake on the plate in front of Robb who shouted in joy at more cake.

“At this rate there will be more cake on his body than in his body,” Sansa remarked jokingly, taking a small piece of the cake to pop into her mouth before Robb could destroy this one like the last one.

“Sounds like a good name-day celebration to me,” Arya commented happily, brushing off crumbs of cake from her own tunic. Sansa shook her head at her, figures her sister would eat just as messily as the babe.

Everyone was celebrating loudly and happily in the Great Hall. Many of the free folk mingled among the bannermen, all laughing, chatting and drinking. Ale, wine and beer flowed around them, Sansa kept a cup of wine farther away from Robb’s grasp. Lately the little one had been grabbing everything in reach even more than before. It was a requirement to make sure nothing bad could be within his reach. Glancing over she watched as Jon spoke with Tormund beside him. A slight flush came to her cheeks as she thought back to a few weeks ago. They hadn’t really discussed what had happened, but there was a definite shift between them.

Sansa noticed more and more how Jon situated himself with her, always sitting beside her, or always coming to stand at her side. She could hardly miss the random touches either, it was subtler before but now he openly touched her hand, sometimes even holding his on top of hers. When they sat together on the bench in the hall he’d always sit close enough to touch her, thighs plastered together and arms brushing constantly as they moved and ate. One-night Sansa almost spilled her wine when she felt his hand landed on her knee gently, he removed it quickly at her reaction though and hadn’t tried since.

Honestly though she really wished he’d do it again. She was loving how open he was being with her affectionately, but he only really did it when it was just them. Arya caught Jon holding her hand once and being it was Arya said something rather bluntly about it and after that he didn’t try touching her in front of others. Sansa made sure to reciprocate his gestures, touching his hand and sometimes even running her fingers down his arm soothingly. When they sat together in the hall, speaking with their bannermen and discussing politics she’d slide her foot over to his, pushing against his and flirting his with foot. It was fun to do even more when he tried to control his facial expressions while speaking.

She also noticed her siblings regarding them both more lately, observing them. Bran made it known he knew what was going on between the two of them, he probably seen it happen before now. It made Sansa think back to what Bran had said to her many moons back, about Jon needing her. She wondered if he meant it like this?

Looking over she smiled lightly as Bran sat at the end of the table with Meera Reed beside him, talking softly to each other. The Crannog arrived a fortnight earlier, looking more than a little out of sorts among them. Of course, she and Arya made Meera feel at home here and after she settled she located Bran and they shut themselves in his chambers for most of the night. When Sansa saw them again the next day, Meera was all smiles and Bran resembled more his old-self than he had in a long time. Since then Meera seemed to be making herself comfortable at Winterfell, to the point that Arya snooped and reported back that she hadn’t been staying in her assigned chambers since arriving here.

Sansa smiled brightly at her little brother, she hoped that Meera being here would help him adjust to being more than just the Three-Eyed Raven, help him be Bran Stark again.

Her little brother wasn’t the only one she noticed enjoying a companion. Though she was more involved in her own mind, helping repair Winterfell and taking care of little Robb, it had not escaped her eyes that Arya was spending time with someone who arrived in Jon’s company.

Gendry Waters. A great blacksmith from the works Jon had seen and talked about. He was also the bastard of Robert Baratheon. Sansa learned from Jon that Gendry had history with Arya, back when she was escaping King’s Landing. Knowing that made her watch the pair even more, though they seemed rather cordial with each other she wouldn’t be surprised if there was more going on than meets the eye. Arya was more reserved about her personal life than even Jon was. Sansa just hoped that Arya knew what she was getting into, and she sort of wished she would confine in her like sisters normally do.

Wishful thinking, she supposed.

“Would you like me to take him to get washed up, my Lady?” One of the serving maids asked Sansa softly. Glancing down at Robb to see the mess he was she smiled sweetly at him, leaning down to press a kiss to his brow.

“No, I think I will take him myself,” Sansa replied, bringing her legs over to get up from the bench. Jon reached up to touch Robb’s hand gently then smoothly caressed her hand from where she held him around his belly. His fingers tracing her soft skin down to her fingers before dropping his hand.

Tingles raced up her arm from his touch, it left her a little breathless as well. Jon merely smiled at them both before turning back to Tormund who watched them intently. “I’ll be right back,” she announced, quickly spinning around to head towards the kitchens.

She smiled at a dish boy, he nodded his head to her before leaving the kitchen, most likely to gather more dishes to wash. Sansa walked over to the big sink already filled to the brim with water, she grabbed a clean washcloth, dipping it in the lukewarm water before wiping away the lemon cake crumbs from Robb’s face.

“Oh, sweet one, I hope you enjoyed those cakes,” Sansa said sweetly, ignoring his fussing as she sat him on the counter to better wipe away the food from his neck and clothes. She’d have to change him, there was more than just cake smashed into the soft tunic. Robb made fussing noises, groaning and whining as she wiped him up. “Be happy I’m only wiping you up. Really I should be giving you a bath.”

A loud clatter of a bowl hitting the stone ground startled Sansa, she whipped her head around to see a man standing near the back entrance to the kitchen, opposite the main hall. Looking him over she noticed he wore no affiliate sigil on his clothing which were dark brown and dirty looking. Actually, he looked rather worse for wear altogether, his face grimy and dirty while his dark hair was greasy and matted. He said nothing only lifted his hand up to which she took in the large dagger. Fear erupted inside Sansa’s chest as she realized what was happening.

She snatched up Robb into her arms, bracing him to her chest as she stepped back from him. “No,” Sansa said fearfully, stepping back as the man approached them.

“No more Targaryens,” he said in a stern voice, eyes not on her but little Robb who was peering behind her arm to look at the man.

“No!” Sansa yelled, taking another step back. He couldn’t hurt him! He was only a baby!

Jon had spoken of his fears that Robb would not be accepted because of his Targaryen blood and of his birth mother, she had thought it was nonsense considering everyone at Winterfell seemed to accept the babe just fine, at least for the most part.

“No more Targaryens,” he repeated heatedly, lifting his arm offensively. Sansa quickly dodged his first swipe at her, avoiding Robb getting hit by the dagger as she glanced around her for a weapon.

The man was quicker with his second swipe though and the sharpen blade sliced into her forearm like butter. Sansa felt pain radiate up her forearm, forcing her to stumble back from the man. Swiftly she grabbed a pan still on the burner and with all her strength slammed it against the man’s head. The hit knocked him into the counter where he crashed into other pots and pans. She took her chance to turn away and run.

Sansa made it out to the hall where the noise of music and chatter was at its loudest, hiding any other sounds like her scream for help. Horrifically she tripped on the skirts of her dress to tumble to the ground. She took the full force of the fall, protecting Robb’s head from the ground though that didn’t stop him from giving out a piercing scream as he was harshly jostled. Sansa flipped around to see the man standing before them, his dagger raised above his head as he glared down at them. She hugged Robb’s squirming body closer to her as the realization that they were going to die came upon her.

“No more Targaryens!” He shouted loudly, swinging his hand down at them. She raised her now bloody arm up to protect her and Robb when a blur of white came out of nowhere and slammed into the man before he could complete his swing.

Sansa blinked slowly, confusedly as she took notice of Ghost ripping into the man’s throat as his gurgled screams barely registered in her mind. Tears erupted from her eyes as she sat there, watching the direwolf clamp his strong jaws around the man’s throat, crushing his windpipe and silencing the sounds of his pained screams.

It was silent.

“Sansa!”

She turned her head upon hearing her name in the silent hall, all music and chatter ceased. Abruptly she was helped to lean her back against the wall as she noticed the hall filling with people. It was Jon who shouted her name. Arya came passed them, reaching down to grab the dagger from the dead man’s hand, inspecting the weapon.

“Sansa, what happened?!” Jon questioned but she couldn’t bring any words to her mouth.

Sansa couldn’t register what was going on, everything happened so fast. Robb was still crying and all she could do was try to soothe him. Jon watched her carefully as everyone spoke around them, but she didn’t hear a word, just kept rocking the babe in her arms as tears continued to fall from her eyes. “Sansa, let me see my son,” Jon finally said, placing his hands around the baby who reacted in fear, screaming at the arms and clutching Sansa to him.

“No!” Sansa screamed out, tucking Robb to her as fear shook her body. Nobody could have him! She needed to protect him!

“Sansa, Robb needs to be checked for injuries,” Jon insisted delicately, forcing his son and her to let each other go. Sam was behind him and took the crying babe quickly to go inspect him. Immediately after he was taken from her she was being picked up, hands under her back and legs lifted her from the cold, hard ground. As Jon cradled her to his chest the words spilled out suddenly, desperately, “He tried to kill him! He kept saying, ‘No more Targaryens’ and tried to kill him, Jon!”

Her hands dug into his tunic, clinging to him as sobs wrecked her body. Jon whispered soothing words into her ear as she felt him start to walk. He kept telling her everything would be alright, that she was so brave to protect their son. Her heart ached from both fear of what happened and every time he mentioned Robb being _‘their’_ son. They came to the Maester’s chambers where Sam was looking over Robb. Gilly was there, helping handle the babe who had finally stopped wailing from fear and pain.

“Sam, he almost cut through her arm,” Jon stated angrily, setting Sansa down in a chair gently. She looked down at her left forearm to take in the blood oozing from the wound, the cut ran down the expanse of her forearm, from elbow to wrist. It ripped through her dress sleeve and skin, not deep enough to hit bone but enough to need stitches.

Sam set to work quickly, bringing over a concoction of herbs and medicines to rub on her wound, he stated how it would help clot the wound so she would not bleed out and he could stitch her back up. She helped him as he cut away the sleeve to her dress to get to the wound better. It bled more profusely as the wound was revealed, Sam pressed a cloth with the concoction onto her forearm. Sansa hissed at the pain but accepted it wholeheartedly, it would keep her from getting sick, or the wound getting infected.

Arya appeared in the room with Bran, Meera, and Brienne who stated that all guests were being escorted to their rooms while they checked the castle for anymore intruders. Meera walked over to them, gently taking the needle and thread on the table beside them. “I can stitch her up,” she offered, dragging a seat over to them.

“Sansa,” Jon said softly, she brought her eyes up from her arm to see him watching her intensely. His eyes were darker than normal, but she could make out the fear in him and the anger.

“I’ll be alright,” Sansa finally declared, her racing heart and the adrenaline having slowed to nothing now that the whole event was over. He pursed his lips together. “Go check on him for me.” She waved over with her uninjured arm towards Robb.

“This is a numbing agent, Sansa, you shouldn’t feel a thing once it has settled in,” Sam announced in his quiet voice, lightly drizzling the powder on her open wound then as gently as he could, pressed it into her arm. It hurt at first, but as he stated it slowly numbed to where she couldn’t feel a thing.

“Are you good at stitching?” she asked Meera as she wiped up the drying blood from her arm.

“I’ve stitched many wounds before Lady Sansa, I won’t make the scarring any worse than it has to be,” Meera assured, peering up at her before proceeding to stitch her arm up.

“Do we know who he was?” Sansa asked after a few minutes of watching Meera work, true to her word she stitched almost as well as she could.

“There is still a small fraction of people who hate the Targaryens and want them all dead,” Bran offered quietly from his prone position by the door. Sansa felt ill at ease as she asked, “That doesn’t mean just Robb, does it?”

“It was among the things I was handling down South,” Jon stated, turning back to gaze down at her with sad, frustrated eyes. “I was trying to repair my image for the smallfolk there, for both myself and my son. As long as were both considered Targaryens then we will both be in danger.”

The room was silent for a small moment, everyone held grave expressions upon their faces. Sansa tried to even her breathing, but she felt as though all the air was sucked from her lungs. She knew some of the atrocities Daenerys had done with her destructive dragons, she knew the wannabe Queen was willing to do anything to get the throne in King’s Landing. It was one of the many things that made her weary of the woman, but she had also been willing to set aside her ambitions to save Winterfell from the Night King and White Walkers. Her good deeds did not outweigh her bad though, and now Jon was in danger as well as their son. Sansa clenched her free hand into a fist as she thought about the man from earlier.

“They would kill you, even though you are King in the North?” Meera asked in the tense atmosphere. Jon nodded grimly, his face only lightening when he retrieved Robb from Gilly.

“I was legitimized through Daenerys, but even so Rhaegar married Lyanna though it was not fully acknowledged by the Kingdoms. Robb and I are considered Targaryens.” Arya slammed the dagger into a wooden table startling Sam and Gilly as everyone flinched.

“What do we do then?” she inquired. Sansa glanced over Meera’s stitch work as she finished up, it was nasty looking and needed to be cleaned and cleansed again, but otherwise she had done well. She looked back over to see Jon shaking his head, clearly at a loss for what to do. “We can’t let them continue to hunt you both,” Arya continued heatedly, boring her stare into his eyes.

“There is a simpler solution than violence,” Bran declared quietly, drawing everyone’s attention though his eyes were directed on Sansa. “Jon and Robb simply need to change their surnames from Targaryen.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “And how do they do that?”

“Through marriage,” Bran commented blandly, not bothering to look away from the meaningful gaze he had on Sansa. Her breath hitched as she insinuated what he meant with his gaze and words. Jon caught on just as quickly.

“No, I will not force her into another marriage.” His words echoed around the silent room. She turned back to Jon, catching his eyes to see his concern there. She knew he was looking out for her, for what was best for her, but it wasn’t about her right now.

He may want to look out for her, still protect her, but Sansa needed to protect him and Robb.

“If you marry Sansa, you will be a Stark like you always wanted, Jon,” Arya said irritably, wrenching the dagger from the wooden table. “It will keep you and Robb safe, and it’s not like no one notices.” She gave a wave between them.

“We are not discussing this right now,” Jon gritted out, looking tired and exasperated.

“When do you want to discuss this? Sansa and Robb were almost killed!” Sansa jumped up, stumbling with dizziness. Meera caught her upper arm to steady her, drawing Arya and Jon’s attention to her.

“Please, not tonight. I just want my arm cleaned and my son in my arms,” Sansa declared sternly, shuffling over to Sam so he could clean her forearm.

Belatedly, she realized she called Robb her ‘son’. She glanced over to Jon to see him watching her in concern, but there was pride in his eyes. Once she had her arm cleaned and wrapped, Jon relinquished Robb to her arms though she was still unsteady from blood loss. Brienne stated she would converge with the rest of the castle guards and report their findings in the morning.

Sansa thanked her, allowing Jon to lead her out of the room. She didn’t get far before he was scooping her up into his arms with Robb in hers as he walked them to her chambers. Robb nuzzled into her neck, mumbling words into her skin as she caressed his back lovingly. She was so glad he was okay, she wasn’t sure what she would do if he had gotten severely hurt.

Her arm hurt fiercely as the numbing agent wore off, it was a reminder though that she saved her son. The thought made her smile as she kissed the babes’ crown. She would take any stab and hit she could if it meant protecting him, her eyes then drew to Jon, the same for him, she realized. Though she knew he was trying to protect her, it still hurt that he seemed to refuse to marry her to protect him and Robb.

Would it be so terrible to be wed to her? Sansa knew it was just her insecurity speaking, still trying to take a hold of her while she was weakened, but she held the thoughts at bay. Until she heard Jon confirm her fears, she wouldn’t worry herself to sickness.

She had to open the door for them since his arms were full, they both laughed at the jostling then he was placing her and Robb on the bed. Jon went back to close the door, Ghost narrowly moved pass the door and into the chambers, licking his chops of the blood still staining his jaw. It was eerie seeing the red on the direwolf’s mouth, but it eased her too. He had saved them, if he hadn’t gotten to them they’d both be dead.

Sansa waved Ghost over, running her fingers through his fur. Robb turned in her arms to pat a hand on the direwolf’s head, she wondered if he knew what Ghost had done. Most likely not, but he seemed appreciative of the animal anyway.

“You should rest,” Jon advised, standing somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“We all should,” Sansa echoed, giving Ghost a pat on the head before placing Robb in the center of the bed. He gave a loud yawn, bringing a curled fist to his mouth as his eyes squeezed tight. She brushed his curly hair back from his head as he opened his sleepy eyes to her.

Without thinking Sansa started to sing. She hadn’t sung in such a long time, she hardly remembered any of the songs she loved as a child. Still the words seemed to be right as she sung about Florian and Jonquil, allowing her vocals to carry the tune along. Robb slowly closed his eyes until he was lightly snoring. Sansa finished with a whispered kiss to his forehead.

“Your voice is just as lovely as it was when we were children,” Jon uttered quietly from his prone stance. He looked mesmerized by her, but he also looked extremely vulnerable, something she hadn’t seen of him in a long time; just like the day in the godswood.

“You don’t have to protect me anymore, Jon, especially not from you,” Sansa stated evenly, holding his gaze with focused eyes. His face wrinkled tiredly, scrunching up as he brushed a hand over his face.

“You were forced to marry twice, I will not be the reason you are forced to marry again. I promised you I would protect you, that means even from me.” Sansa felt a lick of anger in her belly, it was like he hadn’t listened to her at all. She barely had the strength to stand, but she forced it anyway. She had a point to prove.

“Who says its forced?” she asked incredulously, getting to her feet so she could approach him, her legs trembled from her weight, but she held steady.

“You shouldn’t marry because it will protect Robb and me, you should marry for…”

“For love? Is that not what I would be marrying for? Do you not think I don’t love Robb…or you?” Jon let his shoulders slump, a deep sigh leaving his lips as his eyes grew slightly sad. Did he really think she didn’t love him?

“I know you love Robb and I know…you love me, but I don’t want you to commit to something because you have no choice. I do not want Robb and I to be your duty, I want us to be your choice,” he said solemnly, stepping up to her to cup her cheek.

Sansa nuzzled into his palm, closing her eyes briefly to relish the gentle touch. “I thought Robb was a burden once, but I never thought of him as duty because I loved him, and I wanted to care for him as it will be the same for you. You will never be duty for me, Jon. If we do marry…it will be because I want it, it will be because it is my choice as it is yours. It would be a marriage for love, not duty.” She opened her eyes to his looking glossy and wet, she placed her hand over top of his, bringing his palm to her lips to press a kiss in the center.

“Sansa…” Jon muttered throatily, swallowing hard.

Sansa placed her arms around his neck, dragging him towards her where their lips met in a sweet, soft press. They both sighed into the kiss then their lips moved, speaking their wants and wishes to each other. It felt amazing to kiss him again, especially with her declaration between them. She promised Robb she would protect him, and she wanted to protect Jon as well, if marrying her would do that then so be it, but the marriage was only convenient in that respect. There was too much love and respect between them for it to remain about duty and protection.

She opened her mouth first, pushing past his lips to tangle their tongues together. For once the insecurities stayed silent, for once Sansa was assured of her decision without the thought of repercussion hovering over her shoulder. She moaned into his mouth when one of his hands curled into her hair and the other pressed against the small of her back, holding her to him. Jon responded in kind with a groan as her arms tighten around his neck.

He kissed her with a hunger that surprised and excited her, dominating the kiss between them. Sansa clawed her fingers into his hair, directing his mouth as they devoured each other. She pulled away first to catch her breath, staring into Jon’s eyes.

“I love you, Jon, you must know that,” Sansa murmured, tugging on strands of his hair affectionately.

“Aye,” he nodded, cradling the back of her head tenderly. “I know now, for sure. And I love you, Sansa Stark.”

“Truly?” Sansa couldn’t help but ask, tears welling up in her eyes. She held her breath as she waited for his confirmation.

“Truly,” he confirmed, pressing another sweet kiss to her lips. Sansa swayed in his arms, colliding with his chest and curling into him as he supported her weight. “You should rest though.”

“I’m too happy to sleep.” Jon chuckled, directing her back to the bed. She knew she should change into her nightgown, but suddenly exhaustion seeped its way into her veins, drawing away any strength she thought she had as her body collapsed onto the bed.

Jon smiled at her lazy grin, pulling the furs over her body and around Robb, brushing back his hair from his forehead to place a kiss then doing the same to Sansa. She managed to grab the collar of his tunic to drag his lips down to hers for a lingering press. He pulled back once she relinquished her hold, his smile bigger as he stood up.

“Come to bed, Jon,” Sansa muttered tiredly, eyes closing slowly though she fought to keep them open.

“I will, I just want to change and clean Ghost’s muzzle up.” The direwolf was still licking at his chops, looking more pink than red, but he would certainly need a thorough cleaning before the fur around his mouth would be pure white again.

“I love you,” Sansa said once more, her heart shivered and warmed as her lips tingled from the words she spoke. There was something foreboding about how everything came to be, something so otherworldly. Jon had spoke of their circumstances not being pre-destined, but Sansa wasn’t so sure now, there just seemed to be something that guided them together, that guided them along the same path after being separated for so long.

The two children of Eddard Stark’s that were so at odds with each other. The two that spent the least amount of time together. The two that were as different as night and day, both in looks and personalities. Yet they were the two that came together first, the two that found each other when they were at their most hopelessness. There was something to be said about that, something certainly poetic and mystical.

“I love you,” Jon said sweetly, gazing at her so lovingly that she felt as though she were getting a toothache.

Slowly her eyes started to close once more. Yes, there was certainly something to be said about them and their future. Something poetic, magical and sweet, something that the songs of old were made of.

Something like love…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end! I repeat, this is not the end! I know it seems kind of final there, but I felt that was a good note to end on with much promise moving forward for the final chapter. I am very pleased with how this chapter as a whole came out. I had to create the first two portions and complete the ending while revising over Jon's haircut and Robb's nameday portions because they were still written within the same dynamic as when this was going to be one big ole oneshot. I feel like there was a bit of repetition in some instances where y'all will probably tell where things were changed and added, but anywho, I do hope this was everything y'all were waiting for! 
> 
> I will do my best to get the final chapter completed! Thanks for reading and let me know whatcha think! ^_~


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, it’s finally here!! It only took a decade and a half. I am sorry for the delay, I had everything plotted, but the motivation wasn’t entirely there, hence why I put my focus upon other stories. I hope this chapter is everything you think it to be. I went back and forth on if I should split it into two chapters because of the length alone (23k words), but I decided because of the long wait, y’all deserved the long ass chapter whole, lol.
> 
> *****My good friend Becky had given me this idea just as I was finishing this chapter up. The idea that Sansa wanted to be so close with Robb, wishing to be his mother that she tries breastfeeding him to be closer. I’ll admit, at first, I kind of thought it was strange, but she pointed me to a site that shows that women can get their bodies to breastfeed even if they had never given birth or became pregnant. This is apparently something that adoptive mothers can do when they adopt new born babies. The information is amazing and the more I read, the more intrigued I became. FYI, I am not a mother (aside from being a cat mommy), but I want to think I did this idea justice. 
> 
> So, I ask you to please go back to chapter 1 and 2 of this story where two new sections and alteration were added with this idea in mind. I would also love any thoughts from real mothers if I did the experience justice, as I’ve said, I’m not a mother (in the tradition sense), so I would like to know if I did well or not. There is a small portion of this chapter that will touch base on this idea, but really, the additions in the first two chapters is where it’s more extensive.
> 
> So now, without further delay, please enjoy the final chapter of ‘Traveling the Middle Ground’!  
> Website I used for reference: https://breastfeedingusa.org/content/article/breastfeeding-your-adopted-baby-0

 

 

 

For the next few weeks, things were nothing but busy, busy, busy. Jon had gathered their bannermen and announced a royal wedding between them. Sansa had been nervous about what they would think, but of course, she had nothing to worry about. Lady Lyanna Mormont led the cheer that erupted within the Great Hall upon hearing the announcement. Sansa couldn’t help the smile spreading upon her lips as she glanced over to Jon to see him looking just as stunned as she felt. He glanced back at her, returning the smile and reaching over to squeeze her hand.

Things were truly starting to look up.

Brienne had caught three more men plotting murder and even abduction of little Robb the night of his first name day celebration. Sansa cradled the little babe even tighter the next night as she thought about how easily these men had gotten into Winterfell. Security was amped up with Arya leading the way. She kept to the shadows, listening in on conversations and using every ounce of her knowledge gained from the House of Black and White to keep them all safe. Sansa appreciated her sister even more for her vigilance and care.

Her arm was healing up nicely as well. It hurt something fierce and itched even worse, but it was healing. Another scar to add to the collection on her body, but one she was proud to sustain than the others.

Robb was physically fine, but suddenly he was very warily around strangers. He took to hiding when he was confronted with someone he had never interacted with before, burrowing his face into her neck or Jon’s when people he deemed strangers came near. Sam assured them that it was just a phase, something that he would eventually move on from. Before the incident, Robb was very outgoing, loved being around people and smiling at them; the little flirt. Now he avoided smiling at people.

If someone came close by while he was crawling or trying to stand he would immediately crawl back to her and hide under her skirts until he was sure the stranger was gone. Every time she witnessed this it broke her heart. Since everyone in Winterfell knew what had happened, they also understood why he behaved that way, but when one of their bannermen approached Robb and he reacted as such, they were confused, even offended. It wasn’t hard to explain the circumstance, but he worried Sansa.

Would he always react like this? Sam seemed to think otherwise, but even Jon was taking his words with a grain of salt, especially when Robb crawled to him, balling his eyes out because a wife of one of their bannermen had pinched his cheek. Sansa worried over the trauma that the event clearly left on him, forcing him to cling to the family and friends he knew and avoid anyone he didn’t. Sansa hoped though that Robb would grow out of his phobia of strangers.

“I am so sorry, Meera,” Sansa apologized as Robb cried into her collarbone while clinging tightly to her neck to the point that he was slightly choking her.

“It is alright, Lady Sansa, truly, I understand,” Meera said gently, waving her off nonchalantly before leaving them.

Sansa shut the door softly then turned back to Jon frowning from his seat at his desk. She rubbed Robb’s back to soothe him and calm his crying down. Already he was relaxing now that it was just them.

“What happened?” Jon asked, pushing back from the desk to approach them. He rubbed Robb’s head, calling his name when he flinched at the touch.

“Bran was holding him when he was suddenly sucked into a vision of sorts. Meera took Robb before he could fall from Bran’s lap and he started screaming and crying, trying to get away from her.” Sansa felt at a loss for what to do. Was there no way for them to soothe their son from this phobia?

“Robb…” Jon sighed, pushing back his curls when he turned to his father with wet, red eyes. Abruptly he unwrapped his arms from around Sansa to practically jump into Jon’s arms, burying his face into his father’s chest.

“There must be something we can do for him.”

“Sam says only time and teaching him to interact with others will help. He’s still young, he will grow out of it,” Jon stated, leaving out the obvious ‘I hope’. Sansa pursed her lips together with a nod, turning back to look over the castle’s finances while Jon held Robb.

Sansa didn’t really want to do anything too fancy for their wedding, a simple Northern wedding would do, but Jon was King, and as such, it wouldn’t just be a simple wedding. It was to be a royal wedding, one that many people wanted to go to. There were many letters littering the desk inquiring about the royal wedding and lodging for the occasion. It was all mind-boggling and headache inducing for both of them. Jon just as much as Sansa wanted something small and simple, but as Bran had stated they needed to make a statement about Jon and Robb being Starks and not Targaryens.

The bigger the wedding event, the louder the message came across.

At one point in her life, Sansa had wanted something big and loud for her wedding. She wanted everyone from all corners of the earth to come and witness her wedding the man of her dreams. Sansa glanced over at Robb showing Jon one of his favorite toys, a wooden direwolf, and thought how funny it was that now she just wanted something small and intimate with the man of her dreams.

“Who is that, Robb?” Jon asked, pointing directly at Sansa with a huge smile on his lips. He ignored the question though, looking over his toy with more interest that she couldn’t help but laugh. “Robb tell me who that is?”

“Really, Jon,” Sansa commented with a roll of her eyes. For the last few days he had been trying to get Robb to call her ‘mama,’ and though the thought of him looking at her and calling her his mother brought nothing but joy in her heart, she wasn’t going to put much chalk into it. Robb was a stubborn babe; he didn’t like being directed or coerced into anything. Strangely he reminded her of Arya.

“Robb,” Jon called, finally gaining his attention with his wide, grey eyes. “Who is that?”

“M…” he mumbled lowly, turning his eyes to the toy. Jon tapped him on the chin, bringing his attention back.

“Who is that?”

“Jon, you don’t-Mama.” Sansa felt her jaw drop as her words halted in her throat.

“Mama, that’s right,” Jon stated proudly, mussing his hair as Robb kept mumbling ‘mama’ under his breath while playing. “He called you that the other day when I was talking to Tormund. He saw you and instantly called you ‘mama’.” Sansa could feel tears well up in her eyes as she gazed down at the both of them.

“Oh, Jon.” She brought a hand to her mouth, her heart was beating rapidly inside her chest, and she felt so much joy at the moment even with Robb’s trauma and the wedding on her mind, him saying that one word and associating it with her made all her worries just melt away for the time being. Slowly she got down to her knees to come beside Robb and Jon, reaching up to cradle his cheek in her palm.

Robb looked up and smiled brightly at her. “Mama,” he announced making more tears leak from her eyes. Jon scooted over to wrap an arm around her waist until she was leaning against him as he kissed the side of her head.

“Now if only I could get him to say ‘dada’ then we both can cry happily,” Jon commented offhand making her laugh at his terrible joke. She slapped the back of her hand against his chest where he clasped his hand over hers as they watched their son play. “We’ll get through all this, one step at a time,” he assured softly.

“Yes,” Sansa agreed, “one step at a time…”…

 

\------------------------

 

There was another thing that was on her mind as well as Robb and the wedding. One thing that terrified her and Sansa felt she had no one else to go to about it.

Intimacy.

It wasn’t like she and Jon hadn’t kissed more since Robb’s name day, nor was she unused to his random, light touches through the day, she anticipated every one. Yet nothing compared to the anxiety welling inside her chest and stomach when she thought about what happened after the wedding, what she and Jon would do once they were behind closed doors.

Sansa sat in her solar, pondering how she was going to get through that aspect of the wedding. She knew Jon would understand, knew he would never push her, but she still feared his response to her fears. What if he rejected her if she wasn’t able to consummate their marriage? What if Jon did accept her reluctance, but eventually it ate away at him, and he finds sexual intimacy with another? She wasn’t sure her heart could handle that.

It was all Ramsey Bolton’s fault.

That disgusting excuse for a human being and his torture and tormenting of her mind and body. Sansa thought she was over everything that was done to her and felt that she had overcome those obstacles when she bled her heart out to Jon when she started accepting herself once more, but still, it was buried so profoundly underneath her skin. Lingering and hidden away from sight until it came to be when she was most vulnerable.

Was there nothing to get rid of him from her? A balm, or surgery that could rip off the lasting effect of Ramsey Bolton from her being, so Sansa could finally be truly okay? It seemed like such a joke, such a lie to tell him how everything of his, his name, his being, his house would be gone forever, and yet he was still here within her. He was like a shadow standing behind her, overshadowing all the happy and loving moments she had to tarnish those memories with his mere presence.

He will never be gone as long as she allowed him to live inside her mind, inside the scars, he littered on her body. He will never leave unless she forced him gone.

Sansa just wasn’t sure how though…

 

\------------------------

 

It was a rare night that Robb was not sleeping with them. Rare as in this was the first night since Jon came home that Robb was not between them, sleeping soundly. Some of the women whom were mothers had commented that it wasn’t healthy for him to sleep with them at his age, stating that Robb would never be able to sleep through the night by himself if they kept allowing him to sleep in their chambers (well hers, but that was beside the point).

Sansa didn’t want to leave him in his crib, she wanted to have him sleeping between her and Jon. Yet Jon agreed that they should try leaving him in his chambers, joking that they all needed to wean off Robb sleeping with them. Sansa only agreed because Jon seemed to think it was a good idea and in hindsight, she could see that it was, but that didn’t stop her from solemnly caressing the spot where Robb would have been.

Jon acted as though nothing was amiss, but she could tell he was as tense as she was. This was the first night they ever slept together without Robb as the buffer between them. Jon had initially stated that he should sleep in his chambers that night, but she begged him to stay. Having Robb not there was going to be bad enough, Sansa wasn’t sure how’d she would sleep if Jon wasn’t there as well.

Before they were plunged into darkness, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips, whispering goodnight. Jon smiled at her, caressing her cheek softly as he wished her a good night as well.

At first, it was a bit awkward, sleep evaded her in the beginning, and she could only focus on the rising and falling of Jon’s chest. There was no other noise in the room, but the crackling fire. She was missing Robb already, but she was also missing Ghost as well. They both agreed to leave him with Robb, just in case.

Eventually, though sleep pulled at her tired eyes and Sansa allowed herself to be drifted into slumber, yet it didn’t last long.

She couldn’t have slept for more than a couple of hours before she felt the thrashing beside her. Sansa’s eyes popped open, sitting up abruptly as she took in Jon moving from side to side, breathing harshly as he thrashed about. She immediately knew that he was in the throes of a nightmare. The low light of the fire allowed her to see how his brow wrinkled and his lips formed into a frown as he grunted and moved, fighting away imaginary monsters.

“Jon,” Sansa called out softly, afraid to touch him in case he reacted violently towards her. “Jon!”

He hadn’t seemed to hear her, so she called out even louder, pulling her furs off his body in hopes that the change in temperature would bring him to awareness. When he moaned her name so sorrowfully as though he were in utter pain was when Sansa reached over to touch his cheek. Almost instantly he lessened in his movements, even more so when she stroked his forehead, pushing back his dampened hair as she called out his name once more.

Slowly Jon gained consciousness, rapidly blinking as he took in his surroundings before slowly drifting his gaze towards her. “Sansa,” Jon breathed quietly, reaching up to grasp her wrist as she continued to stroke his face.

“You were thrashing in your sleep,” Sansa responded softly, pausing in her strokes as he trailed his hand down her wrist to capture her hand within his. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Aye, a terrible one,” he mumbled tiredly, sighing as he closed his eyes briefly. There was a slight shudder that ran through his body as he tightened his grip on her hand.

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asked after a moment of silence reigned between them. Jon frowned, glancing away from her. Sansa squeezed his hand to bring his attention back to her. “I would like to hear it.”

“I’m not sure you would, it’s…it’s about you.” Jon grimaced at the memory of his nightmare, sorrow pulling at her heart at the pained expression.

“Please tell me, Jon,” Sansa pleaded as she scooted closer to him as he sat up against the headboard of her bed. He looked to be contemplating, gathering his thoughts while she waited patiently for him to speak.

“I dreamed…dreamt that marrying you put you in danger, that a group of men came after you in retaliation. And I…” Jon’s voice broke then he coughed as though to cover up the breaking of his voice from her, to keep her from seeing how much his nightmare affected him so. “I couldn’t save you,” he finished with glossy eyes, gazing over at her sadly.

Sansa swallowed thickly at the emotion in his voice as he spoke on, “I couldn’t save you, and that is my biggest fear. I promised you that I would protect you, and I couldn’t do that; I let them harm you, Sansa! I let them kill you…”

Immediately she pulled him to her, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as he buried his face into her shoulder and neck while his arms wrapped around her body to hold him to her. She heard him mumble how it was his fault, that he allowed her to die. Sansa merely rubbed his back soothingly, keeping him locked in her embrace as he shuddered and worked the emotions gathered from his nightmare through his system.

Sometimes Sansa forgot that she wasn’t the only one who had gone through hell and back. Jon may present himself as though he weren’t affected by the things done to him, the things he had seen and the things he had done as well. He could play like he was tough and untouchable, but Sansa knew otherwise. Jon couldn’t hide away from his emotions and feelings any more than she could, he could hold them at bay possibly better than her, but neither of them could hide anymore.

And maybe they didn’t have to hide at all.

“But you didn’t, Jon. You didn’t allow me to die because I am right here, and you won’t allow me to die, nor would I allow myself to die. We’re both made of tougher things, and as long as you try to protect me, then I will try to protect you.” Sansa allowed Jon to pull away from her, so he could gaze into her eyes.

“How can you be so sure about our future?” Jon asked uncertainly, closing his eyes when she pushed back his hair from his forehead to press a kiss there.

Sansa pulled back to reply, “The thing is I really am not certain of our future, but I am certain of who you are and of who I am, and that is enough for me to be sure of our future.”

Jon stared at her disbelievingly, like she was of something magical and unreal. He released his grip on the back of her nightgown to cup her cheek sweetly. “Gods…I love you, I love you so much,” Jon muttered breathlessly then he was kissing her lips.

Their lips molded together, slanting opposite as they kissed. Sansa moaned into his mouth, embracing his lips and tongue. Her stomach swooped, and her insides fluttered as her tongue was caressed by Jon’s. He practically devoured her mouth, plundering inside and taking control of the kiss. Sansa moaned and whined, grasping at the hairs on the back of his neck while squeezing his shoulder. She slipped lower than him, Jon moving to hover over her as they kissed. His sweet tongue caressed hers, brushing and rubbing as his lips sealed to hers as though he wished to fuse them together forever.

Sansa shivered at the thought, slipping her tongue past his to lick the roof of his mouth. Jon held himself above her, pushing back her hair and touching her soft skin with his roughened fingertips. She couldn’t get enough of his mouth and touch, the heat between them growing heavier and hotter. Everything was going great, until his hand caressed her neck, trailing down to her collarbone. Sansa felt herself immediately start to shake, her heart pounding faster and faster then his hand lowered further and cupped her breast through her nightgown, and she froze with a choked breath.

He called out her name after she wrenched her mouth from his, yanking herself back to roll out from under Jon to her side of the bed as a shaking sob escaped her lips. Sansa covered her mouth to keep the whimpering at bay, her whole body kept shaking though. What was wrong with her?! She knew it was Jon kissing her, touching her, so why did she react this way towards him? Her eyes were filled with tears that made pathways down her cheeks as she tried to control her reaction.

“I’m so sorry, Sansa, I shouldn’t have,” Jon said quietly, sullenly. She turned back around to see the way his face had fallen and the concern that worried his brow.

“It’s not your fault,” Sansa choked out, barely holding back a raw sob that tried to wiggle its way out of her throat.

“What can I do to help?” Jon quickly asked, tugging the furs off her body which evidently helped to cool the heat underneath her skin and seemingly breath a bit better. He waited for an answer that she couldn’t even figure out herself.

“I don’t know, Jon, I just don’t know,” Sansa finally stated brokenly, moving to stand where she stumbled, barely planting her hand on the stone wall to keep from running into it. She ignored Jon’s call of her name, walking over to the window where she flung it open to embrace the cold night air.

She stood there for a few minutes, sucking in cold air through her mouth into her lungs as she willed her heart rate to slow down. Eventually, Sansa started to feel normal and under control, but when she turned to look at Jon, he looked anything but. He stood a few feet to her side, watching her carefully, but his face was scrunched into a sullen expression that made her heart skip a beat at the painful way he looked at her. She could already tell he was berating himself, blaming himself for her reaction, but he wasn’t to blame, it was her fault.

No, it was Ramsay’s fault.

“I’m tired, Jon.” He nodded, turning away from her and heading towards the door. “Where are you going?”

“I figured you’d feel better if I wasn’t sleeping next to you for now,” Jon answered after turning to look back at her. Sansa quickly crossed the room, plowing into his body to wrap her arms around his chest tightly.

“Don’t leave me! I can’t get better if you feel guilty and leave me all alone! Don’t leave me all alone, Jon, please!” Sansa wailed, her tears coming back with a vengeance. Jon cradled her head to his shoulder, wrapping his other arm so tightly around her back that it was sort of hard to breathe, but she welcomed it all the same.

“Shh, I’m sorry, I won’t leave you, Sansa. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable is all. Shh, it’s alright, love, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” Jon soothingly whispered in her ear, allowing her to empty her hot tears into the shoulder of his nightshirt.

She could still feel him like a dark shadow hovering over her shoulder, smiling that awful, nightmarish grin as she broke down in Jon’s arms. How was she to get better if she reacted this way from a single touch to her breast? How could they ever have other children if she couldn’t allow the man she loved to touch her, much less engage in sex to produce a single child? Sansa took a shuddering breath, squeezing her stinging eyes closed as she tried to search for an answer to her problems and yet there wasn’t one; at least not one she knew of.

It seems little Robb wasn’t the only one that had trauma to get over, only Sansa had hoped that the few years since her second marriage would have helped to erase the awfulness that she went through. It seemed it was wishful thinking on her part, hopes, and wishes that did nothing for her anymore. What made it worse was that Jon felt helpless and guilty, that her issues would make him think it was something he did, and it wasn’t. It was all her; all her…

 

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After the incident a few nights ago, Jon took to have Robb back between them. Sansa was both happy to have her little boy within arm’s reach, but also so very sad because it meant Jon was feeling guilty and she was nowhere near finding a way to fix her issue with intimacy. It felt like a failure from all angles, and it was slowly eating away at her. Her only saving grace was that Jon still slept with her and Robb, but he made sure not to encroach on her side, and he even seemed to be taking a step back when they kissed, leaving merely pecks or soft, lingering kisses that were no less passionate than before, but nothing like the devouring of her mouth that they had done that night.

Sansa spent a whole day in the library, looking for anything that could help her, but there did not seem to be a book or scroll that she could find that specifically talked about her sexual trauma. There was a moment where she thought of going to their resident maester, Sam, but the fact that he was Jon’s best friend made her warily to bother him with her problems. He was such a shy man, sweet and kind, but easily flustered and she could see him accidentally slipping to Jon something she said without meaning too. No, she would just have to figure this out on her own, it seemed.

To soothe her nerves, Sansa took Robb from Arya back to her solar. They played with little wooden blocks, building walls and castles before he would destroy them with his little fists with laughter. She watched him play, feeling a warmth inside her chest and a bright smile on her lips when he turned around to grin at her, handing over a block for her to help set up the castle again. As they played, she thought about Robb’s trauma with people, wondering what she could do to help him.

It seemed they both needed to figure out a way to deal with their issues. Sansa reached up to stroke Robb’s curly hair back, huffing in amusement when he proceeded to destroy his castle once more. It was then a thought occurred to her.

There weren’t many little boys Robb’s age, many were older than him. The best way for him to reestablish contact with others would be through children his age. Gilly had recently come to Winterfell only a few moons after Sam was established as their Maester and she brought her son along with her, Little Sam. Her son was a few years older than Robb, but he was a shy boy, clinging to his mother’s skirts more often than not. The few times Sansa tried to interact with the little boy, he’d grow red in the face and smash it into Gilly’s skirts while she tried to apologize for her son’s behavior.

Sansa wondered if Robb would like Sam to play with, they hadn’t really interacted because of the other boy’s shyness and Robb’s age difference, but maybe they could help each other out? The idea sounded better and better as she thought about it more, bringing the two boys together seemed like the best logical thing. Sansa took it upon herself to find Gilly later, asking about her son and his progress with friends, only to learn there was none.

The little boy was painfully shy and seemed to prefer Gilly or Samwell’s attention than anyone else. When Sansa brought up Robb’s trauma and maybe bringing the boys together to play and such, Gilly seemed unsure at first, but it seemed as the idea settled in her mind, she started to think of the benefits as well. Before Sansa left, Gilly had agreed to bring her son over to play with Robb the next day and see how things go.

It was a bit nerve-wracking if Sansa were honest as she waited for Gilly and Sam to visit her solar. Robb was blissfully ignorant of what the day would hold as he played with his wooden wolf, prancing the figurine around while making little-barking noises. Ghost always looked at Robb curiously when he did that, tilting his head with unblinking eyes as he watched the little boy bark and laugh. Sansa smiled down at him then jumped when there was a knock on her door.

Her nerves were driving her insane. She got up and headed to the door, opening it to find Gilly holding little Sam’s hand with a bright smile on her face. “Lady Sansa,” she greeted sweetly then looked down to her son. “Say ‘hello’ Sam,” she chided softly, but the shy boy turned to bury his face into her skirts instead. She sighed at his reaction, but Sansa was quick to wave her off.

“It is alright, Gilly. I understand. Why don’t you both come in?” Sansa pulled the door wider, waving them in. Robb looked over curiously, blinking as he took in Gilly then little Sam.

Almost immediately he seized up, his eyes watering and a sniffle coming through his nose. Sansa shut the door as softly as she could, quickly rushing over to pick her son up as he started to cry silently. He buried his face into her neck, clinging to her tightly. Sansa whispered soothing words in his ear, rubbing his back as she cradled him in her arms. She glanced over at Gilly who smiled reassuringly and showed Sam some other toys lying about.

“Robb, don’t you want to play?” Sansa asked in his ear, biting her lip when he started to shake his head. “We could build castles though; don’t you want to do that?” He continued to shake his head.

Sansa turned her attention onto Gilly and Sam. Her son was looking at the blocks and animal figurines, taking up a horse to look it over. Sansa eased herself down, swallowing hard when Robb clung to her even tighter before she was able to settle on the floor. Sam glanced at her with wide eyes, but Gilly drew his attention back to the toys, taking up another horse to play with him.

It took a minute or so for Sam to become engrossed in his play, ignoring Robb and Sansa as the little blonde boy opened up to playing with the horses. Sansa smiled as she watched, waiting for Robb to become curious as well. Before the incident on his name day, he was a rather curious babe, always touching things and getting into stuff he shouldn’t. Now he lacked the want to explore, and Sansa couldn’t really blame him either. Yet, that curiosity never truly left him and as the minutes ticked by, the more curious he became. His grip on her neck loosening up, before turning slightly to take in Gilly and Sam playing.

Her heart was racing, waiting for Robb to turn fully around in her lap. He did it in small turns; first, he turned a bit towards them and away from her then Robb shifted with only one hand wrapped around her neck, and his shifting continued until he was seated facing Sam and Gilly while Sansa cradled him in her lap. Little Sam looked up at him, his face reddening, but his mother brought his attention back to the toys again.

Sansa leaned towards the side, catching a hint of Robb’s face. He looked a bit pensive for a babe of one year and two moons. He turned to her when he caught her watching him in the corner of his eye, so Sansa gave him a big smile though he didn’t quite return it himself. Robb looked back at little Sam, watching the older boy play for another minute then surprisingly reached down to pick up his direwolf toy.

Little Sam froze at first, glancing at Robb then he was back to playing. Robb seemed to take a cue from Sam, ignoring him for the most part as he started to play too. Sansa didn’t know how long she and Gilly sat there, watching their son’s play separately, but it was long enough to bring leg cramps to her calves when she finally stood up.

Sansa moved to her desk, waving a hand to another chair to indicate Gilly could sit with her. The other woman took a moment longer before she moved to get up. Sam stopped, blinking up at his mother worriedly. She mumbled some words into his ear then moved the few feet away to sit with Sansa, both watching the boys for another few minutes. They still played separate, but the fact that both were still playing with their mothers away was progress in itself.

“Maybe if we keep this up they’ll both start to play together soon?” Gilly commented, turning to Sansa with a hopeful smile.

“I agree, maybe even bringing mid-day meals in as well could help,” Sansa added thoughtfully. Seeing Robb play with little Sam only a foot away had lifted the nerves creating havoc on her system. He looked content like he normally did when he played with her or Jon, or her siblings. “It’s progress, to say the least.”

Gilly nodded her agreement. They continued to talk about the boys some more then moved on to Sam’s studies and forging a new chain before the subject of Sansa’s upcoming wedding came up. Gilly was so sweet, smiling bashfully as she asked about what Sansa wanted to do for the feast and what her wedding dress would look like.

Sansa had almost forgotten what it was like to discuss such things with someone who was actually interested. Arya only wanted to know the surface level of things, same as Brienne and most of the other ladies she talked with were not those she felt confident to speak with personally about any of her true thoughts. Gilly made it easy though. Her unconventional upbringing meant there was no need to put up pretenses and the way she wore her emotions on her sleeve, it made it easy to see what she was thinking.

Honestly, Sansa probably shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d mention her fears of the bedding afterward.

“I worry over the bedding, over what is expected of us and if…” Sansa paused to take a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she saw Gilly’s big understanding brown eyes staring back. “I don’t know if I can consummate our marriage,” she finished softly, her eyes unwillingly watering.

Gilly’s lips flattened as she drew her eyes down to the wood of the desk in thought. “Intimacy is a hard thing to handle when you have only known fear and pain. It doesn’t matter how much he loves you and how much you love him, there is still fear which lies in waiting. It chokes you and steals your breath away. It makes you want to curl up into a ball and cry for ages, and it never seems to get better.”

Sansa blinked slowly, her eyes widened while she took in Gilly’s saddened eyes, brimming with unshed tears like her own. She knew the other woman’s upbringing, and she knew about little Sam’s biological father as well. It hadn’t occurred to her that Gilly might know almost precisely what Sansa felt and went through, probably not to the same extent, but near enough to understand. Clearly, considering her words echoed so much of what she felt. Sansa opened her mouth to say something, but Gilly continued on strongly.

“My father drank a lot, he was crude and mean, and if any of us stepped out of line, he never hesitated in slapping us for our transgressions. I was his youngest wife, and he…he liked to come to me at night more often than the others because I was nice and tight for him.” Gilly shuddered at the memory, wiping away any fallen tears. “He was never gentle or sweet, he never went out of his way to harm me, but…he still hurt me anyway. I may not know everything you have gone through, Lady Sansa, but I may know a little bit, and I would like to help you too,” Gilly concluded softly, reaching over to close her hand over top of Sansa’s.

It was strange how both the sensation of being able to breathe easily over realizing how much Gilly understood of her situation and the tightness in her chest as she thought about everything she had gone through mingled together in an odd coherence. Sansa turned her hand over, grasping the other woman’s fingers to squeeze them, finding reassurance when she squeezed hers back.

Minutes whittled away as they talked, Sansa, voicing her concerns over the intimacy. She relayed what had happened between her and Jon only a few nights ago, how she froze from his touch and felt as though she couldn’t breathe. The shame she felt came back over her, the guilt building up while telling Gilly about Jon’s reaction.

“How am I supposed to consummate our marriage, Gilly? Jon touching me makes the fear come back! I want his love, his touch, but I can’t stop the feelings and fear. I feel like Ramsey will always be there, attached to me no matter what I do.” Sansa sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead to try and soothe the throbbing.

“Some things take time,” Gilly answered wisely.

“I don’t have time though; the wedding will be in a few weeks at best! It has been so long, why can’t I be over this?” Gilly looked back towards the boys in thought, her lips pursed into a thin line. Sansa wracked her mind, trying to think of what she could do, but at this point, she was coming up with a blank mind.

“When…” Gilly swallowed, closing her eyes as though to collect her thoughts and will before opening to them direct her gaze with Sansa’s. “When I wanted to be intimate with Sam and feared memories of my father would haunt me, I started out by touching myself and imagining Sam instead. I feel it helped, and it might help you too, but I do think that you should ask Jon for help in this.”

“I’ve never done such a thing,” Sansa admitted shyly, a blush started to redden her cheeks at the thought. It never occurred to her that she could touch herself to bring her pleasure, to think of Jon while doing so. It seemed to wrong and yet…

“You must be relaxed, comfortable and at peace. It takes time to work up, but I think it could help.” Sansa nodded, biting down on her lip.

Little Sam came up to Gilly, tugging on her sleeve until she bent over for him to speak in her ear. Gilly sighed, nodding her head then returned her gaze to Sansa. “I think our playtime is over for today. Should we come back tomorrow then?”

“Yes, of course, please. I enjoyed your company, and hopefully soon Robb and Sam will feel the same about each other.” Gilly’s cheeks turned a little red at Sansa’s words, bowing her head with a shy smile that surely her son would gain as well.

Sansa walked them out then returned to seat herself by Robb on the floor, hugging him to her body and kissing his cheek while praising him for doing so well with Sam. Robb whined in her arms, wiggling about because he wanted to play more than being held by her. Sansa relented her hold, smiling brightly down at him. She felt productive in talking with Gilly and having little Sam over with Robb, it felt like good progress on both of them.

Still, her mind went back over what they had spoken about. Sansa, unfortunately, knew there was pleasure to be had through coupling. Disgusting as it was, there had been a few times she had felt such a thing with Ramsey though it receded rapidly almost as soon as she felt it. Then there were the times she and Jon kissed and touched that brought on a tingling sensation throughout her nerves underneath her skin. One-time Sansa had squeezed her thighs at the strange feeling of aching pressure down there, realizing that it was because of Jon and his attention on her. She knew she could feel pleasure, but to try and produce it herself was another situation entirely.

Gilly was right though that Sansa would need Jon’s help in this. It wasn’t only touching that she was finding adversity towards, but the thought of the male body as a whole too. If she wanted to get past this debilitating fear, then she needed to be progressive in fighting against it, and the only way she could truly do that is with Jon’s help. She knew without a doubt that he’d do everything in his power to help her.

Sansa feared though that not even he could do much against her own trauma. Only time will tell, she thought solemnly…

 

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Sansa was extremely nervous, so much so that her stomach grumbled uncomfortably, and she felt like puking. It was the middle of the day, and she had asked Jon to join her in her bedchambers. She hadn’t told him what it was for, but she knew Jon would come regardless and honestly, Sansa wasn’t sure she’d be able to discuss what she needed of him if they weren’t in private. Even now, she wasn’t all that sure she could relay what she needed of him.

Her mind went back over her discussion with Gilly a day ago and how she had told Sansa that she needed Jon’s help to overcome her ‘aversion to sex’ as she so elegantly called it. Sansa wasn’t sure how to go about things, but as she thought about it the rest of the day and that morning, she knew that one of the things that got to her was the male body. She tried avoiding thoughts of Ramsey as she logically thought out what exactly bothered her and upset her over the whole ordeal.

The feeling of vulnerability was the most significant issue she felt towards the act. Feeling as though she had no say or feeling trapped and unable to escape were feelings that happened from her feeling of vulnerability. She needed agency; she needed to feel secure and strong. Sansa had thought it over long enough to know what she needed of Jon. That being said though, it didn’t make going about her idea any easier.

She jumped when there was a knock on her door. Sansa called out for whomever to enter and Jon came in, smiling at the sight of her. His smile did wonderful things for her, the tension in her shoulders easing up and the anxiety though still there, had slowly lessened at the twitch of his lips.

“Sansa,” Jon greeted, he crossed over towards her for an embrace that all but erased everything around her. She enclosed her arms around his back, rubbing her cheek against his beard while breathing his name into his ear in greeting.

She had only seen him a few minutes ago to ask him to meet her in her bedchambers yet seeing him again and knowing what she would ask of him, Sansa just couldn’t help but take comfort in his presence. His warmth and smell invading her senses. Jon unknowingly made her feel so secure, she could hardly understand why she reacted the way she had that night. It made her angry at herself for reacting that way, but Sansa knew it wasn’t exactly voluntary either.  

Jon pulled back to gaze into her eyes, reaching up to brush back a loose strand of hair from her face. His touch was cool and sweet, especially so when he cupped her cheek before leaning in to press his lips to hers. It was only a mere brush of lips then he was pulling back and stepping out of her arms. Half of her wanted to kiss him longer and deeper, but she knew that she needed to get down to business.

“I asked you here because I need your help,” Sansa started, pulling away but his scent lingered in her nose, consuming her senses still. Jon seemed to straighten up at her words, his face becoming serious with his lips flattened. She missed his lovely smile already.

“Whatever it is you need of me, my lady, I am at your service,” Jon said earnestly. Her eyes drew down to their feet, a blush cresting on her cheeks at his devotion to her. Sometimes it was still hard to believe that Jon loved her as he had stated numerous times before.

It was so easy to drift back to that uncertainty she had felt before and after he came back. So easy to tell herself that he didn’t truly love her. Sansa hated that could ease back into her insecure self again, but she fought hard against it. Here and now is what mattered most, she reminded herself. She had her siblings; she had Jon, and she had her son. Those were the things that mattered to her most and having those meant that she could handle anything in her future, including the mental and emotional scars Ramsey left behind.

“I’ve thought about what happened a few nights ago.”

“Sansa, that wasn’t your fault,” Jon immediately said, concern wrinkling his brow.

“I know, Jon. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try and stop it from happening again. The only way I can do that is if I can get over my…issues,” Sansa mumbled softly at the end, glancing at Jon’s face then over to the door leading into her bedchambers. He followed her gaze.

“What do you need me to do?” Sansa let out a shuddering breath, her shoulders slightly shaking. Her anxiety went to war with the warmth Jon induced in her with his words. Instead of responding though, she turned and led him into her bedchambers, shutting the door behind him.

Jon waited patiently, waiting on her cue on what to do. Sansa fiddled her fingers together, trying to gather her courage to tell him what she needed him to do. He’d do it, she knew. Without question or even an explanation, Jon would do whatever was asked of him. It was a comforting reminder.

“Jon, I need you to undress…fully.” Sansa swallowed. She forced her eyes up to gauge his reaction. His brows were arched high, and his lips opened in a small ‘o’, but instead of saying anything, he started to unbutton his leather jerkin.

Sansa wanted to look away; her eyes blinked repeatedly and rapidly. The urge to divert her eyes was strong, but she forced her eyes to remain on Jon as he worked away at his buttons. Her face was nothing but flaming hot redness, taking in his slow hand movements. It was somewhat agonizing. Jon shrugged off his jerkin then moved on to the black tunic underneath, loosening up the ties at his chest then tugging up the shirt over his head.

She couldn’t help the hiss when her eyes took in the darkened scars on his chest. She had never seen them before, only having heard about them from Jon. Sansa hated to think they were horrid looking, but they were and that had to do with the fact that Jon lost his life because of those scars. She wished she could erase them off his body, scrub and wipe them away. Something else she noticed was that his chest had dark hairs littered about with a thin line leading from his belly button into his breeches.

Heat boiled in her stomach upon the sight. Something about him having hair on his chest made this different for her, and it only took Sansa a second to realize it was because Ramsey had been hairless on his chest. Her eyes roamed his chest quietly, only after a moment she realized he had stopped undressing. When Sansa looked back to Jon’s face, she found him watching her with soft eyes that were dark and heated, another burst of warmth filled her belly. He smiled at her attention then proceeded to untie his breeches.

Jon stopped to crouch and worked his boots off then he was sliding his dark pants down his legs. Sansa felt a shiver go down her spine at the sight of him in his smallclothes. She licked her dry lips then pursed them tightly together. She was only a few feet away, giving Jon much-needed space; both of them really. Even though there was heat running through her nerves and pooling at her belly, there was also a hint of anxiousness running through her. Her heart started to pound inside her chest, but it wasn’t so much from lust as it was from fear.

“Are you okay?” Jon asked, his fingers brushing the edges of his smallclothes while he observed her. Sansa nodded though she wasn’t entirely. She could feel the edges of panic coming over her, but she pushed it aside, forcing herself to remain calm.

She could tell he was only half convinced of her nod. “I’m feeling a little anxious, but I want you to continue,” Sansa said, taking in a deep breath and releasing it as smoothly as she could.

Jon observed her; his concern filled eyes gauging her reaction now. He then gave a slow nod, tucking his thumbs underneath the band of his smallclothes then pulling them down his legs. Sansa’s heart was thundering inside her chest; she could even hear it in her ears. Rushing and pounding, all while her eyes took in Jon’s male anatomy.

His cock was half hard from the looks of it, slowly stiffening underneath her gaze and lifting from his body. He looked different from her only other experience with a man’s cock. It still looked alien to Sansa’s eyes, strange with the way his cock stood up from his body and against gravity while his balls hung underneath and with a bush of dark, wiry hair at the top. Sansa dragged her eyes up and down Jon’s body, taking in every inch of him from head to toe.

He shifted underneath her gaze, his arms hanging limply by his body although his fingers twitched as though he wished to curl them into fists. When she finally focused on his face again, she found it redder than before; his own eyes were stuck on the stone floor. Sansa felt a trickle of liquid heat that seemed to gather between her thighs. It was such a strange sensation to feel, the peculiar mixture of fear and want, warring inside her.

The want urged her to approach him, to touch his well-sculpted chest while the fear made her want to turn away, bury herself in her furs and curl up into a ball. Panic roared with a warmth of her want colliding into it. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, stuck between panic and lust. Sansa closed her eyes for a moment, willing away the panic and fear, reminding herself that it was Jon standing there naked, not Ramsey Bolton. Fear and panic had no real logic though; it still made her react the same way she would with her second horrible husband.

Freezing up, stilling her rapid chest and clenching her eyes tightly shut. Push past it, Sansa thought desperately, don’t let the fear rule you. She closed her mouth; teeth gritted tightly together while forcing air through her nose. She counted inside her head to ease the tension in her body. Sansa opened her eyes, and before she could react fearfully, she approached Jon.

He stayed completely still, unmoving but for his twitchy fingers. His eyes moved to stare at her as she came before him. With a shaking hand, Sansa placed her palm on Jon’s warm chest, right over his pectoral. Her fingers brushed his nipple causing a gasp to escape him while her palm was covering the scar there. It was slightly raised on his skin, slightly harden to the touch like a scab, but it was most certainly a scar. Thinking about his scarring and investigating them helped to keep the panic from overtaking her.

Sansa ghosted her hand over his skin, feeling the fine hairs and other scars. She glanced up to find Jon gazing at her heatedly; his dark grey eyes were entirely black. Her eyes trailed down to see him swallow thickly in his throat then she was following the movement of her hand. Touch him, she urged herself, feel Jon and know it’s not him.

Her hand moved lower and lower, brushing against the hairs underneath his belly button, even grazing the hole with her thumb. A smile came to her lips when she noticed him shivering at her touch, that reaction seemed to push the fear a little bit away. Sansa felt a sense of bravery, allowing her hand to drift further down until she was able to brush her fingers against Jon’s cock. He gave a slightly muffled grunt at her brush. Her fingers tingled from the softness of his skin. Her sense of fear ebbing a little more away encouraged her to wrap her fingers around his shaft.

Jon was thicker around; her fingers were unable to reach entirely around, and that knowledge sent a jolt through her nerves. He was hard and heavy in her hand, but when she moved her hand down his shaft and Jon released a moan at her touch, panic took rein. Tears immediately filled her eyes as a flash of memory came over her. It was another time, forced on her knees and a different cock forcefully in her grip.

Sansa gasped, taking a step back as though she was burned while her vision was blurred by tears. More flashes of what Ramsey made her do came over her, sucking the air from her lungs. She kept stepping back, ignoring Jon’s calls of her name before she backed into her bed and her legs buckled beneath her to fall upon the mattress.

She buried her face in her hands as sobs wracked her body. She could hardly breathe, gasping for air and choking while awful memories invaded her mind and senses. Why couldn’t she do this? Everything was going fine until she was slapped across the face with memories that she had tried to very hard to forget. Sansa only wanted to be happy and loved, to be able to show Jon her love once they are married as a wife could with her husband, but how could she if she reacted this way from just touching his manhood?

Had Ramsey truly ruined her completely? Would she never be able to find pleasure and happiness when it came to coupling, even if it’s with Jon, the one man she trusted above all else? The answers to her puzzling questions never came. Instead, she only sobbed harder, drenching her hands in tears.

Sansa jumped when she felt two hands encircle her wrists, gently prying her hands away from her face. Through the puffiness and blurred vision, she saw Jon dressed in his breeches and tunic, gazing at her mournfully. “Sansa, sweetheart, we can wait until you are ready,” Jon assured her, his thumbs rubbing up and down the insides of her wrists soothingly.

“What if I’m never ready, Jon?” Sansa cried out thickly, shaking as another sob escaped her. Jon let go of one wrist to cup the side of her wet and red cheek.

“It doesn’t matter to me, only as long as you are comfortable with it. Your comfort and well-being are all I am concerned with.” He said all that without hesitation, his eyes connected with hers the whole time. Sansa blinked, her eyes felt heavy, swollen and hot. “You being my wife and mother of our son is all that matters right now, Sansa. Everything else will come with time.”

Sansa pulled her wrist free to tug him forward so that she could hide away into his neck and shoulder. Would she ever be ready though? How much more time did she need before she could be ready again? Would Jon be okay if they never had sex? Sansa knew in her heart that Jon would wait for her endlessly if need be, but her insecurity wondered if that was true. How long could a man wait until his baser urges got the best of him?

Jon’s not like that, Sansa thought defiantly, he would never find another to please him. He would suffer in silence while she tried to figure this out and work past it. She didn’t want that though; she wanted to feel what true lovemaking was like. She wanted to know what her mother and father had felt when they were together and have that as well. Sansa wanted that with Jon, and she wanted to have more children, to give Robb siblings like they had.

How could she have those things if she waited until she got better? Time heals all wounds, they say, but what if she didn’t have the time, or was willing to give the time? It had already been two years now, wasn’t that enough time? It was quite apparent that wasn’t enough time, or maybe she should have been trying sooner with Jon. Maybe the sooner they had started to work away her traumas then the sooner she could consummate their marriage?

In her heart, Sansa knew starting soon than later would not make much of a difference for her. It was mental, emotional and physical, and only she could overcome her fears. She needed to be determined and courageous; she needed to be resilient and relentless. Sansa rubbed her nose against Jon’s pulse point, savoring the feeling of being enclosed in his arms and protection.

Together they could overcome this, Sansa reminded herself. Together they could stand strong and be a force to be reckoned with. Together they could work towards a better future with love, peace, and children.

Together…

 

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Sansa managed to escape some of the lords looking to question the finances of the wedding and feast. Jon was keeping it as small as humanly possible, but the lords of the North wanted it bigger and louder. Some thought to voice their opinions to her instead, thinking she could sway Jon’s decision when in reality he wasn’t the one who needed swaying; it was her. Sansa didn’t want a large wedding, she just wanted to marry Jon and cuddle Robb, and she had more important, pressing matters on her mind than throwing more coin at the wedding and feast preparations.

A throbbing headache was making things harder on her though. Sansa rubbed her temple, nearing Jon’s solar. She aimed to talk with him about some of the preparations and the housing situation they were going to hit once she realized how many lords and ladies intended to come and witness the marriage of the King in the North and Lady of Winterfell. There just wasn’t enough room.

She opened the door, the thought of knocking never coming to her mind as she shut the door and gasped at the sight before her. Jon barked out her name in shock, sitting in a brass tub with little Robb in his lap. Sansa blushed, spinning around to show them her back. “I am so sorry, Jon. I should have knocked.”

“It’s alright, Sansa. You merely startled me,” Jon answered, smiling when she looked over her shoulder at him. “You needn’t look away; it’s not like you haven’t seen everything already.” Sansa nibbled on her bottom lip then turned around fully to see them both.

Robb was looking at her curiously from his perch on Jon’s lap while Jon looked for all intents and purposes calm and collected. She wondered how she had looked when Jon had walked in on her and Robb all those moons ago? She hadn’t been nearly collected, having used the babe to protect her modesty, but had she looked so entrancing sitting there with wet hair and water dripping down her body as Jon did.

“I should go though, let you finish up,” Sansa stated quickly, walking back towards the door. Her face was burning at this point.

“Mama!” Robb yelled out. She froze at the name, peering back over to see little Robb struggling against Jon’s arms with wide eyes. He called out to her again, little hand grabbing hold of the side of the tub as though he intended to crawl over it to get to her.

“Please stay,” Jon said, forcing Robb back though he still fought against him.

“Alright, I’m staying,” she assured. Sansa came over to the tub, getting down on her knees to lean against the side.

Robb smiled, settling down in Jon’s lap now that he realized Sansa wasn’t going to leave. She noted that the water was a bit higher than she would have liked, but Robb looked content, playing with a sponge and the bubbles in the water. Jon kept a firm grasp of his belly, keeping the babe on his lap and concealing himself from her sight. She reached down to brush her fingers through Robb’s wet hair.

“You should get in with us,” Jon offered lightly, dunking his head down before she could gauge his expression.

The thought of joining them caused an edge of fear inside her. It was one thing to bathe with Robb and be naked with him and something else entirely to do that with Jon as well. She wasn’t sure if she should after what happened the other day. Jon hadn’t seen her fully naked; no one has really. She had awful scars on her back from her time in King’s Landing, courtesy of Joffrey and his White Cloaks then there was more scarring courtesy of Ramsey and his sadistic nature. Sansa wasn’t sure she was ready for Jon to see all that, she certainly wasn’t ready to bare it all yet either.

“You don’t have to, Sansa. It’s just a suggestion.” She caught his eyes this time, his sincerity shining through. That edge of fear ebbed away, and a sense of bravery replaced it.

Sansa stood up from the tub, reaching up to fiddle with the ties on her dress. Her face grew warm as she tugged her arms through the long sleeves of her dress, feeling Jon’s eyes watching her. She decided to keep her shift on, allowing the dress to crumple to the ground. Sansa gripped the rim of the tub, dipping her right foot in first then her left. The water was warm, a bit warmer than she would have liked for Robb, but again, she pushed away her motherly instincts.

Her shift soaked up water quickly, turning the white fabric translucent up to her waist. It took some maneuvering between her and Jon before she could feel settled. He moved his legs on the outer edge of her then had her place her ankles and feet on his thighs. They were both red in the face by the time they got adjusted.

Robb smiled and laughed, struggling once more in Jon’s hands to get to her. Sansa smiled, taking hold of the babe and cuddling him to her chest. She didn’t like how her added weight made the water level higher, but with both of them there, she wasn’t worried. Sansa turned Robb around, so he sat on her lap. Strangely enough, she felt rather secure in the tub with Robb and Jon. There was no hint of anxiety, or fear trying to take over her; it was peaceful and calm inside her.

Sansa scrubbed Robb’s back, blowing at the bubbles in his hands when he brought them up to her. She could feel Jon’s eyes on her, watching them. They didn’t talk, just relaxed and played with their son. She jumped when she felt his hand on her ankle. Jon smiled reassuringly, brushing his fingers along her skin then he was taking hold of her foot in his hands. She wasn’t sure what he was doing, but his touch was surprisingly nice, soft and sweet.

Jon rubbed his thumb on the ball of her foot, pressing harder in certain areas. Sansa swallowed with a shuddering breath, pursing her lips together to hold back a moan at his touch. He slid his thumb up against the arch of her foot, tickling and relieving the pressure there from being on her feet all day. She continued to wash Robb as Jon continued to rub her foot, eventually switching to her neglected one next. His touch was creating a pooling of heat in her lower belly, a feeling that she felt whenever they kissed for long periods of time, or when she had seen him naked yesterday.

She tickled Robb’s belly to distract her from the sensations running through her. Sansa bit down on her lip, though a muffled giggle left her when Jon purposely tickled her arch with a mischievous grin on his lips. Jon then lifted her foot up from his thigh, pulling it up into the air while his eyes stayed connected to hers. She shifted Robb on her lap, but her attention was completely on what Jon was doing. With another mischievous smile, he pressed a kiss to her arch that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Jon,” Sansa said warningly, though it was only heat that she felt and no panic or fear to be seen. He raised an eyebrow, his lips twisted into a pout.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” he stated innocently then pressed another soft kiss to her arch that was anything but innocent.

“We’re bathing our son,” she continued, glancing down at the babe playing with the bubbles in the water. Robb seemed completely and utterly content with his parents between him.

“Aye, and I’m just showing my wife to be, my love and appreciation.” Sansa flushed, his loving words made her heart pound heavier in her chest. “We should do this more often,” he added, his cheeks warming at his suggestion.

“With or without Robb?” Sansa countered, sending him an impish smile. Jon merely shrugged his shoulders, giving her arch one last kiss before setting it back on his thigh and into the water.

“Whichever makes you the most comfortable.”

She could only smile more at his answer, dropping her eyes down to take in little Robb between them. It felt so natural, being in the tub with both of them. Washing and playing, kissing and flirting. Sansa felt not one hint of fear or panic, and it made her wonder why that was? Was it because Robb was there with them? Did having their son here too as a buffer help? Or was it something else entirely?

Sansa wondered if it was because she had never done this before. She’d never bathed with a man in the tub with her, only herself, or when she was really young with Arya. It could also be a bit of both, Robb and bathing, and even the fact that there was no expectation here with Jon. Not that he ever made one with her before, but it would be expected to consummate their marriage after the wedding feast.

She wasn’t sure what it was, but the mere fact that she was sitting here, feeling Jon caress her ankle and shin without a drop of panic to send her to hysterics was incredibly enlightening and peaceful. Sansa leaned further back into the leaning lip of the tub, brushing her toes against Jon’s abdomen as she went.

Hopefully, this was a good sign that things were looking up. Hopefully, this meant that she was progressing through her trauma. Sansa knew she had a long way to go, but this felt like a major accomplishment, and she wasn’t going to let that go unacknowledged either…

 

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I feel ridiculous, Sansa thought as she laid herself down on her bed. She was only in her bedchambers, feigning illness to escape everyone and have some peace and quiet to herself. It took some appeasing to keep Jon at bay, for there was a very good reason as to why she wanted to be alone.

Sansa was finally going to use the advice Gilly had given her a fortnight ago. Each day that they bought the boys together, they talked. Robb and Sam were starting to interact with each other, and it was sweet to see how attentive they were to each other, handing off toys with shy smiles. Little Sam, of course, didn’t quite understand Robb’s gibberish as he was still only a babe, but he tried talking with him in a quiet voice. It was a steady improvement, and Robb seemed to anticipate when he could play with his friend.

While the boys played, she and Gilly talked about anything and everything. Her new friend was very sweet, smarter than she let on and very encouraging of Sansa. It was because of Gilly that she was here in her bed with only her shift on.

Sansa stared up at her canopy, her hands placed on her stomach as she thought about what she was going to be doing. She had never touched herself before, the only time she had thought about it, she was reminded how sinful and wicked the deed was by her Septa. Even now, Sansa could hear Septa Mordane’s voice in her head, telling her she needed to stop and go pray to the Seven for forgiveness. She pushed away the old woman’s voice, closing her eyes to bring up a vision of Jon’s smiling face.

Gilly had told her to think about Jon and the things that made her happy first then slowly bring up the times that made her feel hot and tingly, from there it would be almost natural. Sansa had questioned about how genuinely natural it could be, but her friend only smiled knowingly. The wildling hadn’t had a Septa to correct her wickedness, not that Gilly was wicked at all, she thought. She was the sweetest and kindest person Sansa had ever met before, and she was glad that when Samwell agreed to be their maester that he brought her and her son along.

So as per what Gilly told her, Sansa envisioned Jon smiling at her with full teeth and little crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he gazed at her. The sincerity and happiness were glowing within his dark grey eyes. She felt the warmth he usually brought in her come out, blooming across her chest and down to her belly. Sansa hummed at the feeling, bringing up more memories of his smiles, be it directed at her, or Robb, or anyone really.

Her mind brought up the memory of Jon blushing at her words from when she complimented him on his looks. The sheepish smile on his lips with his cheeks turning a lovely shade of red, mixed with his bashful gaze looking down to the ground and his lashes fanning against his red cheeks. Sansa smiled at the memory, she could hear his husky voice in her ear now, and that made her slightly tremble. Jolts of pleasure trickled through her nerves while she brought up their first kiss.

The way his hand cradled her hip as he tugged her towards him, squeezing her between his legs so she could be even closer to him. There was a throbbing between her legs, an echoing ache that wished to be relieved. Jon’s hand was trailing up from her hand to her wrist and ghosting up her skin to her shoulder before grasping the nape of her neck, that memory sent delightful shivers down her back and spine.

Sansa rutted her hips up and down upon the mattress, digging her bottom into the furs. Her thighs started to spread, inching her shift higher up her thighs. It was so vivid, the memory of his face coming closer to hers with his forceful fingers on her neck. She could feel the phantom touch of his fingertips digging into her skin, burning his touch into her body. His eyes had been so dark and heated, so consuming like wildfire.

Her fingers gripped at her shift, tugging the material up further. That ache was being ever insistent now, begging to be relieved. Sansa bit down on her lip, allowing her hand to slowly drift down her belly. If she remembered correctly, she had been the one to press her lips to his first. His bottom lip captured between hers where she sucked the plumped flesh. Her fingers slid overtop of her smallclothes, feeling around the hidden flesh between her thighs.

Though she had memories and experiences to fuel her desire, she still did not know what she was supposed to be doing down there. Sansa tentatively touched herself, feeling the fabric of her smallclothes and finding it a bit wet. When she pressed harder, she found a bit of pleasure, so she allowed her fingers to slip underneath the cloth to explore.

Jon was kissing her in her mind, but as she explored her hidden flesh, she thought of it being Jon’s hand instead. His roughened fingers were moving smoothly through the hair on her mound, trailing lower to feel the cleft of her cunt before slipping by to touch the lips of her sex. Sansa gasped at the touch, swallowing at the strangeness of her soft flesh and the wetness that greeted her fingers; no, Jon’s fingers.

He was whispering in her ear, telling her how lovely she was in his husky, deep voice. The deeper his voice was, the thicker his Northern accent became. She could practically feel his heated breath tickling the skin of her neck up to her ear. It was his fingers touching her wet lips, pressing down to push them aside and explore further. He encountered her entrance, asking her if she wished for him to continue. Sansa nodded enthusiastically.

Jon was chuckling in her ear, pressing a kiss against it before pushing a lone finger into her body. Sansa whined at the pleasurable touch, the feeling of her walls gripping his finger as he dipped deeper inside her. Her other hand-no, Jon’s other hand moved to capture a covered breast, fondling her flesh until her nipple was puckering for attention. He brushed a thumb against her nipple, causing a jolt to run through her. He did it again at her reaction then continued by squeezing the pebbled bud between his fingers.

Sansa moaned, embracing the feelings coursing through her being. It was warm and lovely, yet she felt like she was being struck by lightning from each press, caress, and pinch. Jon found a hidden nub at the top of her slit, hiding from sight and that brought more immense pleasure when touched upon. He focused there, swiping his fingers across the sensitive nub, forcing it out of hiding.

There was a building pressure in her lower belly, a feeling she had felt a few times before, but never resulted in anything. It was stronger than Sansa had experienced any time before, growing larger the longer she imagined Jon touching her through her hands. Jon was kissing down her throat, circling his fingers against her nub and plucking at her nipple, even tugging her shift down to expose the bud to the open air. The sensations were even stronger when he pinched her nipple now. Her hips moved against his hand, working with the circling fingers.

“I want you, Sansa. No other woman can compare to you, nor could I ever love a woman as much as I love you, sweetheart,” Jon breathed into her ear. “Show me your peak, sweet girl. Show me your pleasure.”

Sansa cried out, pinching her nipple tightly while her burning hand rubbed against her swollen flesh. There was a burst of pleasure jolting through her nerve endings and making her body shake and quiver. She quickly removed her hands, finding the pleasure almost overwhelming in its intensity. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her mouth gaping open for much-needed air as she started to come down.

It was unbelievable how Sansa could still hear his voice in her ears, even though Jon hadn’t been there at all. The mind was such a powerful thing. Sansa glanced around her chamber, finding everything was as it should be, and yet she felt changed, somehow. There hadn’t been any fear that took away from the experience, nothing that made her feel panicked while she explored her body. This was yet another thing that Sansa wished she had started sooner.

She felt relaxed, and the lingering amounts of stress she was feeling nowadays had evaporated for the time being. Actually, Sansa was amused by how she felt like she could fall asleep now. Her eyes felt heavy, and it was hard to keep them open. She wondered if this was how Gilly felt afterward? This sense of peace and utter relaxation that seemed to seep from her skin and bones? Tears welled up in her eyes; it was strange how she felt like a woman now. As though she hadn’t honestly been one until she unlocked her own pleasure for herself. It was empowering, and Sansa relished the feelings that coursed through her.

A dip in the mattress stirred her from slumber. Sansa opened her eyes to see Arya sitting beside her, little Robb playing with a toy in her lap. The scene made her lazily smile, bringing a slow-moving hand to caress his hair then reach further up to cup Arya’s cheek lovingly. Her sister snorted, rolling her eyes, but allowing the interaction.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, reaching up to pat her hand on her cheek before removing it back to the bed.

“Better,” Sansa mumbled. “How long was I sleeping?”

Arya shrugged. “Maybe an hour or so. Robb was getting upset, and calling for you, so I took him here.” Robb turned his head up to his aunt upon hearing his name, a happy smile from him brought one out of her. She reached up to pinch his cheek, making him pout and whine at her.

“Don’t tease him, Arya,” Sansa said sternly, slapping her sister’s thigh to make her stop.

“So, did you do it then?” Arya asked, ignoring her sister’s words to poke at Robb’s other cheek. Her younger sister always seemed to enjoy teasing her nephew, poking him and pinching his cheeks. It reminded Sansa of when they were younger and how she did that to Rickon too.

Her heart ached at the long-lost memory.

“Do what?”

Arya waved her hand at Sansa’s body before saying, “Touch yourself to thoughts of Jon.”

“Arya!” Sansa squawked loudly, causing Robb to jump, and turn to her with wide eyes. “How did you?” she could barely finish her words before her she looked down to see her shift still rucked up to reveal her smallclothes, not to mention her breast was out as well. “How could you let me lay here like this?!”

Her sister shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing I don’t have. Also, I was eavesdropping on your, and Gilly’s conversations.”

Sansa clamped her hanging mouth shut with a snap, realizing she shouldn’t be as surprised as she felt. “You mean you were snooping,” she corrected her.

“I was doing what I do best,” Arya countered with another shrug. “So, I’m going to assume you did. Did it help though?”

Sansa pursed her lips together, but she could see that Arya was asking because she cared. It wasn’t long after her sister came back home that they confided in each other about their lives after they were separated. Sansa hadn’t gone into much detail on her time in Winterfell with Ramsey, but she said enough to for Arya to understand the circumstances of her situation and the trauma she suffered for it.

Only Jon knew the dark, gritty details of what Ramsey had done to her. Sansa would never repeat those words again, nor would she allow herself to dwell on them either. She emptied her heart and soul once and to the man she loved most, there was no reason to rehash all of that again. Still, her sister knew enough and considering she listened in on her, and Gilly’s conversation, she knew about her issues with sex and the advice Sansa was offered to help overcome those issues.

“I…I think it did, yes. I, at least, have a better understanding of myself and my body.” Sansa turned to see Arya smiling softly, nodding her head.

“Good, I’m glad.” She appreciated her sister’s concern, but the need for payback made her say, “Have you ever…?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” Arya quickly grumbled, hopping up from the bed as swiftly as possible. Sansa couldn’t help the giggle at her sister’s reaction. “I need to go meet Gendry, so I’ll leave Robb with you.”

“Oh, do you now? Whatever for, Arya?” Sansa cheekily asked, finding, even more, amusement when her younger sister flushed.

“Goodbye, Sansa,” she gritted out, stomping her way to the door and slamming it on her way out.

Sansa laughed brightly, her head thrown back as full belly chuckles left her and brought out snorts through her nose. Suddenly, Robb was laughing too, his little head thrown back so far, he fell back against her, laughing though it was apparent that he had no idea why. His laughter only proceeded to make her laugh harder.

Abruptly, she grabbed him, tugging his tunic up to his belly before placing her mouth there and blowing loudly against his skin, creating farting noises. Robb laughed harder and louder, stopping when she stopped and beginning again when she blew on his stomach once more. Sansa felt that all-encompassing feeling of warmth and happiness consume her. Hearing Robb’s laughter, poking fun at her sister and feeling at peace with her mind, and body; it made her feel so complete.

I am happy, Sansa mused, tickling Robb’s little sides to produce more laughter from him. So utterly, and completely happy…

 

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For a week straight, Sansa would find some time for herself, and during that time she would touch herself and imagine Jon was there, doing it instead. The more she learned of her body, the more easily she peaked, and the longer she could prolong her pleasure. The sessions had made it easier for her to feel relaxed and figure out solutions faster; she also smiled more. Lord Manderly had made a commented the other day how lovely her smile was, how it literally brightened the whole room.

Sansa had even felt adventurous, cornering Jon one afternoon, and pressing him up against the wall to leave hot, lingering kisses on his lips and neck. She left him just as quickly, smirking over her shoulder at him before turning down a corridor. She felt like a child again, discovering something new, and that was all her own.

She even found that others felt she was more approachable. Lords and ladies came to her, asking for her opinion on issues that were major and some that were minor. Sansa was amazed at how much she felt like she was a child again, how she had felt when she was young, and her family had been much more whole. There were some points she would look over her shoulder and expected to see her mother and father watching her with proud, loving smiles.

There was always an unpleasant ache when that happened, but Sansa liked to think that it meant that her parents were proud of the woman she had become.

It took her some courage though to finally discuss what she was doing with Jon. Her face had been red the entire time, and when she finally looked into Jon’s eyes to see what he thought, he was red-faced as well, and his grey eyes were completely black. Sansa had thought he would kiss her then; ravish her really, by the way, he was looking at her. Instead, he nodded, swallowing thickly, and his eyes had this glazed appearance in them.

He likes the idea of me touching myself, and imagining him, Sansa thought excitedly, feeling that familiar ache between her thighs. Half of her wanted to see if it would feel the same if Jon genuinely was touching her, but the other half of her was afraid that it’d be different or reminded her of Ramsey.

This was all still so new for her, and the last thing she wanted to do was ruin it right out the door. So, Sansa kept her thoughts to herself. It would be easier that way, she figured.

Then Jon came to their bedchambers that night, a week away from their wedding with an idea of his own. Sansa had just gotten back from singing Robb to sleep in his chambers. She almost took him with her, but she held back, leaving Ghost behind to keep an eye on the little babe.

She wasn’t surprised to find Jon ready for bed, but the tense way his shoulders sat around his ears, and his hands clasped together tightly, tipped her off that something wasn’t right. She held back any fear though; it would do to overreact before knowing what was wrong. Jon glanced at her, giving a twitch of his lips that came off as a grimace than an attempt at a smile. Sansa pushed aside her anxiety, forcing herself to walk over and sit beside him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, reaching over to place her hand on top of his tightly clasped hands. Jon sighed deeply, allowing her to take hold of one hand.

“I’m fine, but I have something to ask you.” Jon turned his hand around until he was intertwining their fingers together, giving her hand a firm squeeze.

“Ask me,” she insisted, returning a softer squeeze to his hand. Jon seemed to find encouragement from her words although his eyes drew down to the floor.

“Well, I have been thinking about your fears, and feelings over the bedding. I know you have taken some things into your own hands, but…” Jon paused, licking his lips before turning his head to connect his gaze with hers. “Have you ever been kissed between your legs?”

Sansa blinked a few times, shock evident on her face as she contemplated what he had asked her. Kissed between her legs? Was that something husbands and wives did? She knew men liked it, and that was as much as she gave thought to that. Her mind quickly and wickedly brought up the image of Jon kissing her between her thighs. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that though, it made her ache, but she was apprehensive too.

“Nu-No, I’ve never had that done before,” Sansa stumbled over her words, the image hard printed in her mind now. Jon’s dark, curly hair against the backdrop of her creamy white thighs.

“Would you…would you wish to try then?” Jon looked so unsure as he asked, glancing between her eyes and the floor while his free hand twitched.

“Have you ever done that before?” she asked, her nerves getting the best of her, but also a lick of jealousy came forth. Had he done this before with his dragon queen? Sansa knew he wasn’t in love with her; she knew that Jon loved her very much, but that didn’t stop the hint of envy wishing to get out.

“Oh uh, yes, once before…with Ygritte.” Immediately her shoulders slumped, relieved to hear it wasn’t with Daenerys. Not that it mattered, and really it shouldn’t matter, but it did. Sansa bit down on her lip. “We don’t have to though, Sansa, if you’re not comfortable.”

“No, no, I uh, I want to try actually. It would be something new, and I might not react badly towards it.” Jon smiled lightly, appearing more relaxed than before. He gave her hand another squeeze before releasing it and standing.

“Shall we then?” Jon asked, offering his hand to help her stand.

Sansa nodded, though her nerves kept her from speaking. Jon knew what he was doing; she would just let him lead her about then. He gave her a reassuring smile when he noticed her arms crossed over her stomach, gripping at the fabric of her dress with nervous fingers. She followed his eyes then glanced away, hating how anxious she was feeling.

“I’m going to need you to undress, Sansa,” he stated, and at the wide-eyed look she gave him, he quickly amended, “down to your shift that is, not completely undress.”

She nodded once more, forcing her hands to work with her, and start working at the ties of her dress at the front. Sansa opted for more dresses that she could put on and off herself, she preferred the independence she got from doing so, and it allowed her not to have handmaidens gasp, and stare at her scarring. It was easy enough to get down to her shift, having already done so before only days ago in the bath with little Robb, but what made her fingers twitch, and shake was the fact that Jon intended to place his head between her thighs and kiss her there.

Her face was going through hot and cold flashes at the thought. She grew hot at the mere idea that Jon wanted to perform something so sexual while she also grew frigid from the hint of fear and panic that was starting to come over her. Sansa took a deep breath as she pushed her dress down her body. When she stood up straight again, she peered over to Jon to see him staring openly at her once more. The way he looked at her, it made her feel shy almost. He had such intensity in his gaze, it helped to counteract the sweeping coldness of her fear away, allowing the heat of his gaze, and the atmosphere around them to consume her.

“Should I remove my stockings and…” Sansa trailed off, picking at her shift now before mumbling, “smallclothes?”

Jon blinked once then twice at her, his heated gaze running up and down her body. “Oh, yes, um…actually, I-I wouldn’t mind if you kept your stockings on, but yes, your smallclothes will need to be removed.” A streak of heat rolled down the front of her chest to pool in her lower belly at the thought that he wanted her stockings to remain on.

Sansa slowly tugged at her shift, dragging the material up her thighs, revealing more and more of her skin as she went. She noted that Jon’s eyes were entirely on her rising hem, she even noticed a brief flash of his tongue licking at his lips. That action brought another streak of warmth through her. Sansa brought her eyes down to see her smallclothes appearing before their eyes; she let one side of the hem of her shift go so that she could work on the ties on her smallclothes then quickly with uncooperative fingers, she got the other side untied. Her smallclothes fell to the ground without a sound.

“Am I ready, Jon?” Sansa asked lowly, her voice sounding huskily rather than nervous. Maybe it was the atmosphere between them? Everything seemed warm and tense but in a good way.

“Very,” he mumbled somewhat hoarsely, coughing in his chest to clear his throat. “Lay on the bed, get comfortable,” he instructed, waving a hand to her large bed.

Strangely, the furs felt different to her, softer feeling. Her skin felt much more alive than before, each brush of her furs sent tickling tingles of pleasure through her as she got situated. Sansa set the pillows about, wishing to be raised a bit higher than normal so she could witness the strange, and sensual act Jon wished to do to her. Once she was settled, she gazed over at him to see that he had shed his jerkin and tunic though he kept his breeches on.

She was getting used to the scars on his chest, still horrid, and made her wish she could rid from them his body, but that didn’t stop the strength that exuded from the display of muscles there. Jon slowly crawled onto the bed as well, stopping before her legs.

“I need you to spread your legs widely apart.” Sansa felt that strange mixture of fear and pleasure trickle down her spine, but she obeyed his words, spreading her legs as far apart as she could get them. “I’m going to see you, Sansa, are you prepared for that?”

She thought over his question carefully, realizing belatedly that he was right. He was about to see a portion of her that she hadn’t shown anyone else; anyone that mattered that is. Her thighs tensed up, and her nerves quivered, but Sansa pushed all her fear away. This was Jon; he was only aiming to please her. He wanted her to be relaxed, and to feel the pleasure she had been denied previously, and there was no reason for her to fear such a thing. Logically she knew this, but her fear tended to be a bit illogical at times.

“Honestly, I don’t think I will ever truly be prepared, but I want to be. The only way I can get through this is if I try even if I’m not entirely sure. I won’t know otherwise if I like it or not, or if it will change anything for me. As long as it’s you, I think I will be okay.” Jon nodded, his eyes softening along with his smile as he regarded her silently. There was pride in his eyes, but also love, so much that Sansa was shocked she had ever thought he didn’t want her or love her like he clearly did.

It was so easy to believe she was unlovable, that no one could ever truly love her for herself. It easy to fall into that pattern of belief because it was safer in a way. Sansa couldn’t get hurt if she didn’t believe anyone would romantically love her, it made life simpler for her, but so very empty too. Jon loves her though, he said it in words, in actions, and in his eyes, and smiles. He loves her, and that was something she had to remind herself each day because she was deserving of love, deserving of his love; just as he was deserving of her love too.

“Show me, please,” Sansa said bravely, tugging at her shift until it was bunched up at her waist to reveal herself to him. “Show me you love me, Jon.”

Jon took a deep breath, his eyes staring down heatedly at her core for a moment then he trailed his gaze back up to her eyes. “I promise you; I will spend every day of my life on this land, showing you that I love you.” His vow was spoken sincerely, and firmly, telling her with words, and his eyes.

Once he seemed sure she believed them, and really, how could she not? He moved down her body once more, getting comfortable on his stomach as he got closer to her core. Sansa felt his shoulders move underneath her thighs, propping her up a little as his hands encircled her hips, softly touching her skin. There was a lick of fear in her though she was containing it best as she could. She wasn’t going to let anything ruin this moment; she would endure, she always had before. If anything, this should be one of the most natural acts Sansa ever had to face.

Jon placed a tender kiss on her inner thigh, making the muscle quiver in shock and anticipation. She could practically feel his smirk against her skin as he continued to press kisses on her inner thigh, moving closer and closer to his final destination. Just when she thought he was going to kiss her there, he moved to her other thigh, dragging his tongue up a length of skin then pressing in a lingering kiss.

Sansa couldn’t help the moan that left her, it was needy and pained, but only in the way of her immense want. Her nub was throbbing for Jon’s attention; actually, her whole cunt was throbbing for his attention now. That lick of fear was growing smaller and smaller the longer he teased her. She glared down at him, willing him silently to kiss her as he promised. Jon seemed to feel her eyes, he glanced up at her with a smirk on his lips then drew his gaze down to take in her throbbing flesh. She wondered if it was physically throbbing in front of his eyes, she felt like it was on her end.

Jon looked back up at her, holding her eyes within his then very slowly, he leaned into her cunt. Sansa held her breath, her nerves seeming to twitch underneath her skin as she waited for the touch of his plush lips to her wet skin. She didn’t need to wait long either. The soft touch of his lips upon the lips of her skin felt eerily similar to the first kiss they ever shared. It was soft, slow and a mere press, but it sent an explosion of tingles running through her skin. Sansa whined at the feeling then moaned loudly when he pressed harder.

His eyes slowly closed before the strange feeling of something spongy and wet slid through her folds. It only took her a second to realize what exactly that was. His tongue swept through her folds, passing over them several times. Jon moved lower, running his tongue against the slit of her entrance. Her sensitive skin cried at the gentle touches with bursts of pleasure that left Sansa panting overhead. His hands kept her hips from moving too much, holding her down with an amazing show of strength. His fingers moved down to help part her wet lips then he was directing his tongue to swipe up against her hidden nub, encouraging the swollen flesh out of hiding.

Sansa’s head tossed and turned, the urge to touch him came over her. She wondered if he’d like that, her fingers clawing through his unruly hair, tugging when he pleased her so. She gave out an unladylike grunt when his lips closed around her nub, giving a gentle suck that all but stole her breath away. Sansa reached down mindlessly, grasping at his curly dark hair, and giving a soft tug.

Jon groaned into her wet flesh, sucking harder against her nub in retaliation. She felt a stab of fear over how intense the feelings were, but her pleasure was louder, shoving aside any rising panic. It was amazing, and consuming, so much more overwhelming than when she touches herself. Sansa realized she was loving the sensations Jon brought upon her. He was doing as she asked, he was showing her he loved her by pleasing her.

Pressure built in her lower belly, the signs of her peak growing more intense, and stronger as Jon continued to suck her swollen bundle of nerves. His tongue came to play, rubbing against her nub, and lovingly stroking it to bring forth endless amounts of pleasure singing through her veins. Sansa gripped harder at his hair, her thighs closing in around his ears while her hips rutted in tiny pushes that barely registered from the immense hold he had on her hips.

She moaned his name; repeatedly, and loudly. It seemed to encourage Jon to suck harder. Sansa gasped, her throat constricting as she closed in on her peak. She vaguely noted that her breasts were wet, leaking with pleasure. Sansa wondered what he would think of that? She was still amazed at the strange, and magical workings of her body. Even amazed again at the fact that she could feel such pleasure at all.

Jon dragged the flat of his tongue harshly against her nub, and that seemed to snap her peak open. Sansa tremored as she rode through her peak, her body jolting with the pleasure dancing through her nerves. Jon continued to suck, and lick her, somehow prolonging her release in ways she couldn’t herself. It was wonderful, but it was becoming overly painful. Sansa moaned his name then said one word, “Stop.”

Immediately he was pulling off her, backing away to give her space. Sansa felt cold from how abruptly he left, but the fact that he listened to her made her warm all over again. Jon’s eyes were glazed over, traveling up and down her body then his gaze lingered longer at her wet breasts then her wet cunt.

“I’m sorry, I pushed you too far,” he apologized, licking his lips, and sucking in air as his chest moved up and down rapidly.

“No,” Sansa answered, shaking her head lazily, feeling that euphoric hazy from peaking come over her. “No, you didn’t push me too far, Jon. You pushed me just enough. I wasn’t afraid.” The realization came over her, bringing tears to her eyes. “I wasn’t afraid,” she repeated breathlessly.

Jon smiled, crawling up along the side to lay next to her. She quickly turned onto her side, placing her head on his chest, and curling into his warm body. He wrapped both arms around her, cradling her against him as they both came down, regulating their breathing, and seeking warmth between them. Jon pressed a kiss to the crown of her head then another upon her forehead before pressing a lingering, sweet kiss on her lips.

Her eyes closed, feeling peaceful as she always did after peaking, but even more so now with Jon in her arms. He shifted around, managing to get their furs out from under them, and over their bodies.

She wondered if she wasn’t afraid because this was something that has never been done to her before? But then, she had felt some fear, and apprehension when Jon asked her, and even during the beginning of the act. No, it couldn’t be that alone, it had to do with Jon, himself. He made all the difference. She was seeing him doing that to her, showing her that he loved her enough to give her pleasure of the highest degree.

It made Sansa think that she could do this, that she could make it through the bedding as long as it was Jon with her throughout it. He made all the difference. Him…

 

\------------------------

 

Sansa sat at her vanity, gazing at her reflection in the mirror as her ladies’ maids bustled around her. Arya was sitting in the corner with her back supported by the armrest and her legs hanging over the opposite, cleaning out the dirt from under her nails with a dagger. Gilly was fiddling with her dress, obviously uncomfortable in the beautiful olive-green dress Sansa had made her, and Brienne situated at the door, arms pinned behind her back, and watching the chaos around her.

Sansa smiled, dipping her middle finger into the mashed raspberries in the bowl on her vanity, taking the juices and dapping her finger on her lips to make them redder. She pursed her lips together, pressing in the color. Her hair was pulled back and braided intricately at the back of her head while the rest of her hair fell down her back, wavy and smooth. Jon liked it more when her hair was loose; he loved to run his fingers through it. She was currently wearing her shift with a corset uncomfortably underneath, but it was the only way the dress would fit, so she endured.

There was a lining of coal on the edge of her bottom eyelids, darkened and making her eyes brighter in comparison with a dusting of color added to her cheeks to stand out against her pale skin. This was how she had wanted to look on her wedding day, period. There were excitement and nervousness coinciding in her gut, swirling and rippling inside.

Her handmaids called out to her, helping Sansa up from her stool to stand while they placed her wedding gown on her body. It was white and grey with long sleeves that covered up to her wrists and even overlapped onto the back of her hand. The material was slightly heavy, mixed between wool and silk to keep her warm but to give the simmer that came from silk. Light, clear lacing came over the length of the dress, and a cape of sorts that attached to her shoulders and draped down her back and trailed behind her. Tully fishes were stitched on the back of her bodice while a direwolf was etched in beads on the front. There was also an opening over her chest, modest, but allowing a hint of cleavage too.

Sansa turned to look at her reflection; it felt like a dream as she gazed at her image.

“You look beautiful,” Arya said as she popped up next to her. She was wearing a nice grey blouse over black breeches, and her hair was pulled back much like Sansa’s though it was shorter. Her sister even allowed her to put a bit of coal liner on her eyes, but that was as far as makeup she would wear.

“Thank you,” Sansa mumbled softly, playing with the lacing over her skirts. There were stitches of snowflakes dancing through it, practically stating, ‘winter is coming.’

“Jon will fall all over himself when he sees you,” her sister added thoughtfully, lightly touching the lacing too with soft eyes. If Sansa didn’t know any better, she’d think Arya was feeling envious. She wondered if her sister ever thought of marriage, any time she tried to broach the subject, Arya would wave her off, and roll her eyes.

But she wondered; nonetheless.

“Could you get everyone to leave? I’d like a moment alone,” Sansa requested quickly, turning to her sister and grasping her hands tightly in hers.

“Don’t be nervous, Sansa. Jon would be a fool not to marry you; he might even skip the feast and jump to the bedding.” She squeezed her sister’s hands warningly though they both laughed. She honestly didn’t doubt it.

Arya released her fingers, turning towards the room, and barking at everyone to get out. Sansa had wished she was a little gentler about it, but her sister got the work done, and soon she was alone in her bedchambers. Sighing at finally getting peace and quiet in the room, she turned back towards her vanity, reseating herself on the stool then reaching for her brush to run it through her hair once more. Memories of her mother standing behind her, brushing her hair washed over her. There was an ache in her chest as she wished her mother was there with her, giving her much needed advice.

Sansa had thought getting married a third time would be nothing like the first two, and surely, it wasn’t, it was worse. Now she was marrying a man she truly loved, and getting married because she wanted too, for love, with some added benefits as well, mind you. Still, this made it better than the first two, and yet worse as well. Her nerves were getting the best of her, but all Sansa had to do was think of Jon and Robb, and those nerves settled for the most part.

As she gazed into the mirror, her mind reflected on the journey she had gone through to get here. Reflecting back on her feelings towards Robb in the beginning, and how quickly they changed. Then there were the changes with Jon, the shyness between them, and the bond that had always been there after reuniting years ago, coming forth and reigniting those hidden feelings. It was a hard, and painful journey, and Sansa learned more about herself than she had ever thought possible.

It was strange how one sometimes didn’t truly know one’s self that through the pathways they walked, and the situations they encountered was how one learned what they were capable of and see themselves for who they truly are.

Sansa realized then how she could stare at herself in the mirror, take in her reflection and not flinch at the person before her. She could look upon her reflection, and see the person she had become, and be proud of that person, that woman staring back at her. A woman that was hurt, and ill-treated for so many years, beaten and broken by those who wished to use her for their own gains. A woman who endured pain and heartache, through and through. A woman who survived when everyone thought she would otherwise, who survived when others could not have.

She saw a woman who had always been strong, even when she hadn’t the agency to do much, a woman who knew herself and thus, could forgive her past mistakes for a better future, and a woman who had always been brave, even in the face of pain and harm, she was brave, and she always had been. And finally, she saw a woman who knew her own value as a person because there were so many people who valued her and cared about her. It was those people that made her a better person in the end, that made her want to try harder, be stronger, be braver, be better.

“I don’t need to try and be brave, I already am,” Sansa mumbled in realization, smiling at her reflection as a sense of ease flowed through her heart.

She stood, rushing towards her bed to place Jon’s cloak around her shoulders, the one she would be putting around his to become a true Stark, and the smaller one she would place on little Robb’s shoulders. Sansa had no time to spare.

It was time to get married.

\-----

The ceremony was beautiful. There were light flurries of snowflakes dancing on the wind in the godswood. Jon had stood by the heart tree, holding little Robb in his arms as Sansa approached the tree. The woods were crowded with lords and ladies of the North and even a few from the South. Tyrion and Jamie Lannister stood by, representing what was left of King’s Landing. Meera stood next to Bran in his wheelchair, her hand placed on his shoulder and his hand over top of hers.

It was Arya that gave her away, and it seemed right that it was her sister to do so. Robb wanted to be held by Sansa, so they had to switch things around, so she could cradle her son in her arms as they went through the ceremony. She allowed Jon to unclasp his cloak and put it around his shoulders while they both placed Robb’s over his. It was awkward crouching to the ground to pray with Robb in her arms, but she managed.

Then Jon turned to her, placing a gloved hand on her cold cheek, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. He pulled away chuckling when Robb started to smack his cheek for suffocating him between them. From there the wedding feast was loud and rambunctious. Robb sat with little Sam beside him, both eating lemon cakes happily. Arya kept an eye on the boys while Samwell took Gilly out to dance, and even Jon, surprisingly, pulled her out to the dance floor.

He wasn’t very good at the livelier dances, but when the music slowed for slower dancing, that was when Jon excelled. Sansa rested her head on his shoulder; her nose turned into his neck as he held her to his chest, dancing them around in small circles. She could feel his hand on her lower back, cradling her to his body while his other hand was hidden by her hair, stroking soft circles on the revealed portion of her upper back where her dress dipped low.

“Are you happy?” Jon asked in her ear, his hand spanning out on her skin as they continued to slow dance.

“I don’t think I have ever been happier,” Sansa answered softly, turning her head up to capture his gaze.

“Aye, I don’t think I have ever been happier either.” Jon leaned down, kissing her forehead softly with his eyes closed tight. She cherished the feeling of warmth and security he brought upon her; it was like they were the only ones in the Great Hall.

No one else mattered as long as she was in his arms.

Eventually, Arya scampered over, handing off a crying Robb to their arms to join their dance. Robb cuddled up in Sansa’s arms, thumb in his mouth and wet eyes closing against her neck as Jon held them against his chest while they continued to dance. “Okay, I change my mind. Now I don’t think I have ever been happier,” Sansa stated happily, pressing her lips to Robb’s crown.

“Agreed.”

They danced slowly, even when the music became livelier, they simply moved closer to the edge of the dance floor, continuing their slow dance with their son in their arms. After a few more minutes of peaceful dancing, Jon whispered in her ear that they should take Robb up to his bed for the night. She didn’t miss the way his tone turned rough or the heat of his palm that traveled from her back to the nape of her neck.

Sansa licked her lips and nodded, puckering her lips up for a sweet kiss before they stopped dancing altogether. Jon took the lead, announcing they were to depart for bed, both their son and themselves. Hooting and howling commenced, startling poor Robb who whined at being woken up, burying his face further into her neck. Sansa was glad for the fact that there would be no normal bedding. She wasn’t sure she could handle being pawed at by random men and having her hard-worked dress torn to pieces.

Jon stood by, watching as Sansa whispered loving words in Robb’s ear, tucking him in his crib before kissing his forehead. Ghost took his spot by the crib, curling up though he lifted his head when she crouched towards him, placing a kiss between his eyes and whispered good night.

She laced her fingers through Jon’s when they left, allowing him to tug her along the corridor towards their chambers. Sansa relished the thought that it was truly their chambers now, not hers alone. The closer they got though, the more her nerves came alive again. She wasn’t nervous about seeing Jon naked or him seeing her naked. She wasn’t even nervous about the act herself, honestly. No, she was nervous about the end.

She hated the end during her second marriage. Hated knowing his seed was inside her, fearing that she would get moon tea soon enough to extinguish the chance of his seed taking root. Sansa had been in constant fear then, so worried that when she became sick, she was riddled with anxiety, fearing that she was pregnant. No, Sansa was fairly sure she could get through the act of coupling with Jon, especially if she can see his face the entire time, but it was the ending that she feared the most.

What if she felt the same way she had with Ramsey? What if she went into a panic? What if she fell back into herself, seeking out moon tea because of the deep-rooted fear in her?

Sansa brought up Robb though. She brought up the feeling of envy she felt when the wet nurses feed him, that envy that drove her to try it with him herself. The envy that made her speak to Maester Samwell about getting her body to produce milk for Robb. If she were truly disgusted with having a child herself, then she would not have diligently sought that information out as she had. She would not have wanted Robb to nurse from her as she had succeeded in, nor would she probably have developed such a bond with him too.

The reminders helped, shoving aside her anxiety just as they reached their chamber door. Jon glanced back at her, smiling almost nervously himself. He brought up their laced fingers, turning hers up to press a kiss to her knuckles lovingly. The soft twitch of his lips soothed her further, helping her smile shyly back.

Jon opened the door, leading her inside past their solar and into the bedchamber. The fire was already blazing, giving off shadows on the walls. Sansa clicked the door shut behind her, leaning back against it then tugging on their joined hands. His forearm laid above her head, holding him up as he leaned into her. His nose nuzzled hers in a wolf-like kiss that painted redness and heat across her cheeks.

Sansa ran her fingers up his grey doublet, fingering the buttons before her fingers trailed up his throat to comb through his beard. “I can’t tell you how often I’ve dreamed of this night, of this day, really,” Jon admitted quietly, nuzzling her nose once more.

“What did you dream about?” she asked, scratching her nails along his beard covered jaw. Jon hummed at her touch, tilting his head like he was a dog-no, a wolf being scratched.

“You spread out on my bed. Your red hair fanned out around you as I make love to you, slow and gentle. You were crying out my name, begging me to go faster, but I won’t. I want it nice and slow with you. I wanted us to remember our first time together for the rest of our days.” Sansa could see it in her mind, envision the pretty picture he painted for her. It was sweet, sensual, and so very loving. Her eyes watered because she wanted that dream to be true, but she feared it wouldn’t be so simple in her case.

“You make it sound so beautiful,” she said, nuzzling his nose back while trying to keep her eyes from producing tears.

“It can be, with the right person, it can almost always be beautiful,” Jon uttered huskily, leaning further into her where he kissed a freed tear on her cheek. “Let me make it beautiful for you, Sansa.”

She leaned her head back, allowing Jon to take her lips in a soft kiss. He pulled back an inch, gazing into her eyes then pressed another peck, lingering longer. He kept pecking her lips, producing warmth and tingles of pleasure before Sansa grabbed a hold of hair at the back of his head, forcing him to kiss her properly. Jon chuckled against her lips before giving her a true kiss, melting their lips together. His tongue slipped into her mouth, caressing her tongue, and tracing the cavern of her mouth.

Her hand was still locked in his between them, squeezed tight while she clawed her the fingers of her other hand through his hair, tugging at the tie at the back of his head. Jon groaned into her mouth, drawing her tongue back into his. He slipped his hand behind her back, pulling her off the door so that they could stumble further into the room. Sansa felt warm, secure, and happy, moving her lips against his and tasting his mouth.

Jon’s hand drifted up and down her back, tugging at her loose hair, here and there. She was feeling stimulated by his touch and kisses, arousal building in her body. Jon led her to the bed, helping her undress with the multiple ties on the back of her dress then he worked on the corset underneath. Sansa had pulled her hair forward, over one shoulder, but she didn’t hear the hiss when he saw her scars. His hands mapped the expanse of her revealed skin, touching all over her, including the scars as though they weren’t really there.

She appreciated him even more.

Sansa took in her newfound bravery, turning around abruptly and standing before Jon with her breasts out. She shimmied the skirt of her shift down her body, along with her smallclothes. Her heart was pounding heavily inside her chest, watching him look up and down her body. His pupils were enlarged, hiding away his natural eye color. Sansa knew she was flushing deeply, the heat and blush moving down her chest.

“You are so beautiful,” Jon whispered in reverence though when he spoke those words, he was looking into her eyes.

“Your turn,” Sansa said just as quietly, stepping up to them to work at the buttons on his doublet. She worked the buttons down rather quickly for her shaking fingers, anticipation, and nerves making it hard for her to control her movements steadily.

Jon joined in, working at the ties on his breeches. He stopped when she finished first, allowing her to push the fabric off his shoulders then Sansa tugged his tunic up his body and over his head. He chuckled at her enthusiasm, taking her hands to settle them on the rim of his breeches. Her fingers trembled before she grasped the edge then yanked them down his legs. Sansa’s stomach grumbled uncomfortably, but she ignored it, catching the ties of his smallclothes and pulling them loose herself.

She made sure to look up at Jon as she grabbed a hold of his cock. Maybe if she made sure to associate touching him with his face, seeing the love in his eyes, and the pleasure in his facial features then maybe she wouldn’t panic. His skin was as soft as she remembered, bringing forth the tingles in her hand like before. Sansa then started to glance between Jon’s face and his cock, finding that it seemed to keep the panic at bay as she moved his foreskin back to see the reddened head of his cock.

I am brave, and I always have been, she reminded herself. It seemed to be true, as she continued to stroke Jon’s cock with only hints of anxiety, but absolutely no panic.

“Okay, sweetheart, come up here,” Jon said, groaning at the loss of her touch. He kissed her deeply, drawing out moans from her lips before he led her onto the bed. “I was wondering if you would like to try being on top of me. It might help you feel more in control.”

Sansa bit her lip at the thought. She hadn’t thought to do such a thing; honestly, Jon’s dream sounded so beautiful, she sort of wanted to do that. Yet his suggestion made more sense for their first time together. He was right, actually. She needed control, she needed to feel that she was the one in control, and with all the power in this position.

“I’d like that very much.”

Jon nodded, his cheeks were red, and his eyes were blazing like the fire behind them. He moved to lay down, settling himself while Sansa untied her smallclothes, tossing them aside carelessly. Jon held his hands out to her, reassuring smile on his lips. She took hold of his hands, moving one knee over his waist to straddle him.

As she moved back, she felt his cock slid against the inside of her thigh. Sansa froze for a moment, her heart jumping into her throat at the touch. “It’s alright, Sansa. Go at your own pace; you decide everything. Take your time,” Jon told her, squeezing her hands, and allowing her to stay perfectly in place.

When she finally moved again, the slide of his cock on her skin didn’t make her sick to her stomach. It was peculiar in feeling. Sansa looked down to see his cock standing up, hard and slightly leaking. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” she admitted then at the concerned expression on Jon’s face, she quickly added, “I mean, I don’t know if I am wet enough.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, biting down on his lip. “Would you like me to-Touch me, Jon.” He swallowed at her interruption, his chest heaving up and down deeply.

Sansa took his hand still locked in hers, bringing it first to her lips to kiss his knuckles, much like he had before they entered their chambers then she brought his hand down between her legs. Jon slowly brought his fingers up to her folds, gently touching her skin. His rough fingers felt so different from her soft touch; it was nicer and better than she thought it could be.

His fingers pushed against her slit, dipping in slightly then dragging his fingers through her folds and back again. Sansa bit her lip, grabbing hold of his wrist to direct him to her aching nub. He smiled at her impatience, gently rubbing the bundle of flesh at her wordless instruction. Her hips started to move against his rubbing, and she could feel herself growing wetter at her entrance. Jon moved his fingers down again, using his thumb to press down on her nub, circling the sensitive button while he pushed a thick finger into her body.

Oh, that was even better than her own touch too. Sansa gasped at the intrusion, but there was not a lick of fear to be felt. He worked at her flesh, pumping his finger in and out of her while rubbing harder and harder at her nub. The pressure was building, but she wanted to climax with him, so she pushed his hand away, mumbling she was wet enough for him.

It was like a moment of truth as she settled his cock at her entrance. Anticipation and anxiety mixed together as she slowly pushed down upon his cock. His head smoothly pushed past her wet lips, caressing her inner walls as she moved down, inch by inch. Sansa knew she shouldn’t be surprised at how good it felt, he was thicker than expected, stretching her inside, yet it still didn’t hurt. Once she was flush against his hips, Jon’s cock locked firmly inside her body, she let out a deep sigh, releasing any leftover anxiety from her being.

She hadn’t realized her eyes were closed until she felt Jon’s hand on her hip, stroking her skin. She opened her eyes to see him smiling beneath her, gazing up at her so proudly. She felt so accomplished though the act wasn’t done yet, she was already halfway there.

With Jon’s encouraging eyes on her, Sansa shifted around in his lap. Shivers ran through her skin at the sensations flowing in her. It was extremely pleasant, so she used her thighs to push up a little then back down, making his manhood slid along her inner muscles. Sansa shivered again at the jolts of pleasure that movement gave her. It was no wonder why people loved the act so much; it should have never been the way she had endured, it should have always felt this way.

Sansa used Jon’s other hand, still locked in hers to help support her weight as she started to move up and down his cock. He groaned her name, his hand moving up and down her body from hip to her ribs. She moved his hand to touch her breast, smiling when his cautious squeeze brought her nothing but pleasure. What was more potent than what she was feeling in her body, was the notion that she and Jon were making love together.

It was sweet, lovely, and beautiful like he said it should be. The look of pleasure and love on his face, watching her move above him with dark, heated eyes. Sansa felt beautiful; she felt strong and brave, and secure. She felt in control of her movements, of her pleasure and his. It felt right. That was probably the most shocking of all, that everything they were doing felt right to her. Marrying Jon, coupling with Jon; it all felt right, as though this was the next logical step for them and had always been that way.

“I love you,” Sansa said breathlessly, moving a little faster, up and down his shaft. She made her muscles squeeze his cock inside her, biting her lip with an impish smile at the groan of her name on his lips.

“Gods, I love you, Sansa. I’ve loved you for so damn long,” Jon admitted warmly, giving her nipple a pinch in retribution. She felt warm all over. Actually, she felt hot all over, a consuming wildfire in her body.

“Do you wish for me to have your babe, Jon? Do you wish for Robb to have a sibling?” Her question made him curse, his face scrunching in pleasure while he nodded in reply to her inquiry. “Then give me a babe, Jon.”

Jon grabbed a hold of her hip, squeezing both her hand and her hip before meeting her downward thrusts with his. His added movements made it even more pleasurable for her. Sansa gasped and moaned, feeling her peak coming upon her. She wanted it too, she wanted his seed inside her, coating her walls and taking root in her womb. Gazing down at Jon, she knew without a doubt that she had nothing to fear, she would embrace his release and his seed.

I want it, Sansa thought desperately, I want it more than anything in this world.

Hearing Jon call out her name, his quick thrusts up into her body, told her that he hit his peak. Wishing to feel him inside her while she hit hers, Sansa touched her nub with rough fingers, moaning his name as she approached her peak. Her eyes closed, and she flung her head back, cresting over that hill into her climax. Jon was groaning at the tightness of her inner muscles, she smiled.

He stroked her heated body as she came down from her peak, his eyes still gazing up at her in awe. He helped her off his limping cock, shifting around until he had her curled up at his side. “You did it, sweetheart, you’re so amazing,” Jon stated brightly, pressing kisses along her neck.

“That’s because I learned to be brave, that I was always brave.” He hummed, kissing underneath her jaw.

“You were always brave, Sansa, you just didn’t have the means to see it in yourself just yet.” Sansa smiled, letting Jon continue to kiss skin as she thought over his words.

He was right. She hadn’t been able to see it before now, but she had been brave, especially when she needed to be. It might not have always been obvious, but it was there, even in small ways. Finally, it felt like the shadow of Ramsey Bolton had evaporated from her being, Sansa knew though, that wasn’t entirely true. There would still be nightmares, but as long as she had her family with her, she was sure she could overcome any obstacle in her way.

She turned her face up to Jon, capturing his lips in a kiss. I have always been brave, and I see that now, I just needed someone like you there to help be along the way…

 

\------------------------

 

Six moons had gone by since their wedding day, and five moons since Jon left on another campaign through the North and South as Jon Stark, King in the North. Sansa missed him dearly during his time away, and especially Robb. A year and eight moons old, his words were coming faster and pronunciation more clearly. He still was wary of new people, but every woman that was older than him were his aunts and every man was his uncles.

The wide-eyed look Meera gave when Robb hugged her, calling her aunt had brought tears to both their eyes. He was also pointing at everything he wanted, even things he most definitely should not want. Like Arya’s daggers that she still keeps laying about, and how many times does Sansa have to yell at her sister before she learns to place her sharp objects out of reach?!

Robb also asked every single day where ‘daddy’ was. Jon had only gotten Robb to call him ‘dada’ before he left, and Sansa got him to complete the word into ‘daddy’, but it broke her heart when she had to tell him ‘not today, sweet one’. Sam was also his best friend, he always, always wanted to play with Sam and vice-versa. There were plenty of sleepovers between the boys in their chambers. Not only was Sam his best friend, but Robb also took to mimicking him too, and Seven forbid he learned a new word.

Arya made the mistake of saying ‘damn’ one too many times in front of Robb, and now that was his new favorite word. It was hard to punish him when he had no idea what he was saying, though it wasn’t hard for Sansa to punish her sister for letting such a word slip. Though, Sansa would only admit to herself, that it was quite funny when Robb would plop on his bottom and whisper, ‘damn’ underneath his breath.

Today was the day though.

Sansa stood out with the rest of Winterfell, waiting for Jon to make his appearance back home again. From the scrolls she had received during his trip, everything seemed to run smoothly. He was well-received as Jon Stark than he had ever been as Jon Targaryen. Even Robb was better received as Robb Stark, second of his name. Sansa couldn’t wait to tell him stories of her brothers, Robb and Rickon, of his grandparents, Eddard and Catelyn, and of course, his birth mother, Daenerys Targaryen.

She and Jon spoke long and short about how they would discuss Daenerys to Robb. They both agreed that their son should know his birth mother, but they weren’t sure how much he should know. Sansa felt that Robb should know enough to love her and cherish the woman who gave birth to him, but she didn’t think he needed to know her past until he was much older; until he understood the meaning of consequences, and the art of decision making better.

She even had a painting commissioned of Daenerys, so her son could see what she looked like. The painting came out beautifully, so much so, that Sansa felt like she was staring at the woman alive rather than in artwork.

History is an important aspect of all their lives, Robb would grow to know the good and bad, so when he took over his father’s reign, he would be well-rounded, and able to navigate the world around him. Everyone had good and bad in them, everyone was grey, no matter how much they wished to stay pure and white. Sansa knew this more than anyone, no one was ever untarnished by the world around them, and she wished not to allow Robb to be sheltered like she and her siblings had been growing up either. It was every parents wish (the caring, loving ones anyway) that their children do better, and have better than they had before them.

Sansa promised herself, and Robb, that she would make sure he did better than she had growing up, that he would never have to face the hardships she had once faced, but that he would learn about struggles, and care, regardless of status of those around him. A king served his people, not the other way around, and she would make sure he knew that well.

Robb was bouncing around before her, excited as they heard the clap of many horses coming closer to Winterfell. He looked up at her happily, smiling brightly with some teeth slowly coming in. Sansa bent a little to brush his unruly hair back, but he pouted at her touch, pushing it away with a grumble before turning back to see the first horses enter the courtyard.

The sun was burning brightly overhead, and there was no snow on the ground. The grass was slowly growing as the last of winter seemed to melt away into spring. Sansa shifted from foot to foot, her son’s excitement initiating her own.

Jon came to a stop a few feet in front of them. He barely got down from his horse before Robb was racing towards him, shouting, “Daddy! Daddy!” He immediately took the little toddler up into his arms, swinging him about before hugging him tightly to his chest. Robb was talking a mile-a-minute, telling Jon everything that he could. Sansa could tell that Jon hardly understood the words coming out of his son’s mouth, most were gibberish unless it was her or Arya, they both understood the gist of what Robb was talking about.

She knew it wouldn’t be long before Jon understood his son as well as they did.

“Husband,” Sansa greeted sweetly, her smile splitting her face at the twinkle in his eyes.

“Wife,” he replied, his own smile rivaling hers. “I see you kept Winterfell together, though I hadn’t doubted one bit, and that our son has more words to say then when I left. When did you get him to say ‘daddy’?”

Sansa smiled even wider, if possible. She stepped forward, taking a hold of his hand then leaning up to kiss his lips. Jon leaned forward, ignoring Robb’s whine to kiss her harder. She felt him try to shake her hand off his, but she held strong, moving his hand where she wanted it.

And she wanted it on the small bump on her stomach. Jon yanked back in surprise, his eyes wide as he felt the hard roundness of her stomach. “Robb won’t be the only one to call you ‘daddy’ soon,” Sansa stated softly, pressing another kiss to his lips.

They had coupled almost every night after their wedding though there had been a few days where her moon’s blood came that kept them at bay. They were only able to couple once before he left, and it was that once that resulted in the bump of her belly. Sansa had felt so exhilarated when Maester Sam had told her the good news. She had almost not believed that she was pregnant, but when her moon’s blood didn’t come the next month like it hadn’t the month before, and then she started to feel the sickness that accompanied pregnancy, it was then she realized it was true.

Sansa figured she would wait until she was showing more, before announcing to Robb about having a little brother or sister. As for Jon, she wanted to wait until he was home to tell him. This type of news was not meant to be told through a scroll. The only people who knew she was with child were Arya, Bran, Brienne, Gilly, and Maester Samwell. It was a tightknit secret, so it would not be spoiled for Jon before he got home from his campaign.

Now, the glazed, wide-eyed look he was giving her with his mouth hung open; it was worth the wait. Sansa had always wanted to be a mother, she had once thought that dream would never come true after her second marriage, but here she was, married to the love of her life with their son in his arms, and another baby on the way.

Sansa had never felt like she was living in a song as much as she did right then and there. It took much heartache, pain, and loss. It took finding herself again and learning from her mistakes, but she finally got to the point in her life that she had always dreamed of. She was finally there, and it was so much better than anything she had ever thought before.

She remembered, wondering once a long time ago how she could possibly stay balanced in life. The constant act of walking a thin line between two extremes. Sansa knew she wasn’t very good at it, more times than not she had leaned far too close to one extreme rather than traveling the middle ground between. She had asked herself if there was any way to truly walk that middle ground completely balanced? Was it an act that you had to achieve on your own or was it something that was only achievable with the right person.

Sansa had figured then that she would learn that lesson as the time came, and here it was. She knew her answer.

It took more than just herself; it took more than just having Jon by her side or Robb. It took having her siblings there, her friends, her son, and husband. It took her experiences, the new and old, the good and bad, for her to truly balance that thin line. It was hard, but then life was never meant to be easy because anything worth having in life took hard work, and pain, and suffering, but also happiness, and anxiety.

Finally, Sansa knew what it took to travel the middle ground, and she learned that yes, she actually could be good at it…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you have it; the end. This has been a lovely journey with this story and I hope y’all enjoyed the ride as much as I did. This is my absolute favorite story I have written for Jonsa thus far, and I hope it ended the way y’all hoped it would. 
> 
> Today/Tonight not only marks the end of this story, but also the start of Fall semester for me. That being said, I will be taking a short break from writing while I tackle my schooling. I will work on things as I go, but don’t expect tons of postings; unfortunately. 
> 
> I would like to thank y’all so much for reviewing this story, for taking a chance regardless of the tags, and showing me such love! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! ^_~


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